Flatmates
by Pearlesce
Summary: In a different, modern world, culture-shocked 21 y/o Gemma moves into a London flat. Her roommates are all lovely, but she's particularly interested in getting to know Murdoc, who's just moved out and moving past his abuse as a teenager. She ends up falling for his devilishly good looks & dangerous attitude. Drama ensues. Rated T for drug use and implied scenes; eventual MurdocxOC
1. Chapter 1

London was big.

That was an understatement, to her. Gemma had come from Toronto, which was quite large in itself, but London dwarfed her hometown. She'd moved to get away from her family. She told people, that, too; she was honest. And they looked at her like she was some sort of monster. But truly, her family was awful. Her never-married parents were abusive dealers, and while she had lived with them she'd had cuts and hand-shaped bruises to prove it. Although she often drank and smoked, she'd tried to separate herself from the narrative she could have followed. She wasn't a naturally nasty person, and did her best to be accepting and lovely. She'd had a lot of friends back home, and didn't look like a troubled young woman at all. And she wasn't shy, but the move had shocked her. She'd secured a bar-tending job and a flat with roommates before she'd even left Canada, but once on the other side of the world, fear set in. Everyone spoke differently, even acted differently, had different customs. She wasn't sure how to act. Her roomies, though, were understanding. All three were about her age. Kris was an outgoing girl with dark brown hair who at once made her feel comfortable. She was a sweetheart, and after a few days they'd already become close. They had clicked. Arlo she'd only met a few times, as he was at work in the day and went out to party at night, but he was tall, ruggedly handsome, and friendly.

Murdoc, on the other hand… he was a different story. He was around during the day occasionally with seemingly nothing to do, but when out he sometimes didn't return to the flat for a good twenty-four hours. She couldn't decide if she was attracted to him or repulsed by him. He was only slightly taller than she was, and his build was lean. He had naturally small bones, but the outlines of his muscles could be traced through the black or gray jumpers he wore. An inverted cross on a necklace hung around his neck boldly- he seemed the type to be an occultist, she thought. He reeked of cheap cologne, cigarette smoke, and alcohol. He had a couple pimples on his cheeks, leftover from his teenage years, and a sparse scattering of facial hair. His nose looked like it had been broken numerous times in numerous places; his hair, oddly enough, was always sleek and shiny (although she'd only heard him in the bathroom with the shower on once) and his eyes… there was something about his eyes. They were tunnels, deep, sharp, frightening. Whenever he entered a room she was in, they peered at her from underneath his raven black fringe, calculating, almost predatory. She could tell by his eyes he was intelligent. But she knew he'd come from a troubled background. And she understood, but she was too intimidated to speak to him other than the curt greetings and eerily prolonged eye contact they'd made with each other. She wasn't even sure why he was living here, with people who seemingly had nothing in common with him.

"He's kind of… different, no?" Kris whispered to her as they listened to him clack open a beer can from the fridge.

His cuban heels clicking on the cheap hardwood floor, he ambled out of the kitchen and mumbled "ladies" as he passed them in the living room. Eager to make friends with her flatmates, Gemma picked up the courage to ask, "how are you, Murdoc?"

He paused and swung on his heels to face her and looked at her quizzically, as if he wasn't used to people taking an interest in him. "Gemma… is it?"

She nodded. His tunnel-eyes bore into hers.

"I s'pose I'm fine," he drawled. She took in the sound of him- this was the most he'd ever said to her. His voice was gravelly and deep, and he asked calculatedly, "yourself?"

"I'm fine too," she smiled. "I just don't see you around often."

"I'm busy," he said flatly.

Gemma nodded, trying to come across as understanding; she could see he wanted to be left alone. "If you ever want to hang out sometime, though, I'd love to. I just want to get to know you guys, since I'll be here for… a while."

He looked her up and down briefly, his eyes lingering a few moments too long on her breasts; she fought the urge to cover them with her arms. "Might take you up on that, love," he murmured, and walked away.

The two young women sat in silence for a moments.

"That was… strange," Gemma whispered to Kris. "Is he usually so aloof?"

"Yeah. I've never had a full conversation with him, but I've never seen him look even moderately interested like he did today. He did look at your boobs for a bit too long, though," Kris criticized. "I wouldn't be surprised if he tried to pull something. He seems like the type."

"Well.. maybe. But we don't know that. He could be a really nice guy."

Kris shrugged. "He's not nasty to us and he rarely ever leaves a mess, so that's all I care about. I mean, his room smells like weed and air fresheners, but." She wrinkled her nose. "Something about him seems a bit off."

Gemma had to admit, something did seem off about him- but she couldn't put her finger on what. After hearing him speak- that husky, rough voice of his- she'd developed a bit of a crush on him…

"I guess I'll have to find out, won't I?"


	2. Chapter 2

{Hello again! Here is Ch2, hope you enjoy. I'm awful at endings, especially for short pieces, so I apologize for that. Any feedback/critiques/reviews appreciated- let me know what you think and how I'm doing! :)}

* * *

Gemma sat in her pyjamas the next morning, groggy in the living room, a cup of tea in hand. She'd slept horribly last night. Homesickness had kicked in, and suddenly she'd felt very, very alone in the metropolis she now called her home. It was 6 in the morning. Arlo'd come home an hour ago and, bless him, had done his best to have a conversation with her, but he was too tired and she'd told him to go to bed. She wanted to call her friends back home, but she knew they'd either be working or in school.

The familiar creak of the front door opened. A gravelly voice coughed a few times, the sound of a zipper, a coat being draped over the stair railing. Cuban heels on hardwood. She unconsciously straightened herself out, combed a few fingers through her morning hair.

Murdoc sauntered into view, seeming to know she was there before they'd even looked at each other. Gemma smiled at him, trying to evoke one back, but his mismatched eyes just stared at her.

"Hey, Murdoc," she said.

"Gemma," he said.

There were moments of silence as he strolled into the kitchen, popped open a can of beer, and made his way to the living room to sit in his chair. She waited for him to say something, but he kept his gaze downcast, his attention on his drink.

She broke the silence. "How are you doing?"

"Same as yesterday."

"Oh. Well… that's good, I suppose!"

He looked slightly annoyed. "You don't know."

"Know what?"

Murdoc sighed to himself, digging his fingernails in the fabric of his armchair. He met her eyes defiantly.

"I didn't come from a good place, either."

His mismatched gaze turn from contempt to curiosity, and a brow cocked from underneath his scruffy fringe. She could see he was interested, only slightly, by what she was saying.

"That's why I moved here. To get away." She grinned understandingly. "I'm fucked up."

His mouth moved into a hint of an amused smirk. "Why're you telling me this?"

"Because isn't that how you make friends with people? You tell them things about yourself? It's your turn now."

"If you're fucked up too, then that makes two of us."

She smiled at him, and he made an effort to crookedly smile back. "Look," she joked. "We're hanging out."

Murdoc paused, frowning at her out of the sides of his eyes. "…And?"

"Well, you said…" Gemma felt confused. "You said yesterday that you 'might take me up on it.' On hanging out."

"Ah," he snickered. "Was probably drunk. You did look rather…" he struggled to find the words, "lovely…"

Gemma didn't know how to reply. That was a nice way of saying that she looked… provocative. She studied him, and he stared right back at her, and eyebrow cocked underneath his mop of black hair. "Is there a problem?" He queried.  
"No! I mean, it's going alright, isn't it? I'm enjoying being here right now."

There was a pause as he studied her, his eyes narrowed. Then, in a completely serious, flat tone, he said, "you're alright, Gemma."

She grinned to herself; this was him accepting her, she knew. "Thank you, Murdoc. You're alright too."

The dark man across from her chuckled quietly, amused, and continued sipping on his beer.

"So… what are you doing tomorrow?"

Murdoc's mismatched eyes shifted. She'd overstepped her boundary. "I have a few things I need to do."

"Alright. Well if you're around in the late evening, it'd be nice to chill again. I'm off work at 9, so."

"May or may not be home by then."

"Ok." She hesitated as his lanky figure got up to toss away his beer can and put his jacket back on. "See you tomorrow, maybe!"

Murdoc tapped his nails on the now-open front door and cast her a small, crooked grin that made her melt, those uneven teeth that she found charming. "You might," he said coyly; there was a slight hint of flirtation in his eyes. He was hard to read.

And then he had shut the door and gone. Through an open window Gemma could hear his Cuban heels clicking cockily on the pavement, like he had a spring in his step.

"That was quite a feat," called Kris from her open bedroom. "I've never gotten him to say much."

"I know how he works… somewhat, anyway."

Kris strode into view, tying her hair up to go to work. "Why are you so eager to hang out with him?"

"…Am I coming across as _too_ eager?"

"A bit, for someone who's only just spoke to him a few times." Kris paused. "You like him, don't you?"

Gemma sighed inwardly. Her flatmate had caught on. "Of course I like him. I pretty well half to, he lives with us."

"Don't dance around my question, you," the brunette teased. "You _like_ him."

Gemma stared at her.

"Don't be embarrassed! I won't judge you. I can see it. He's like… a badboy," Kris tittered. "Although, the fact that he only agreed to hang out with you yesterday because he was high or drunk or whatever… he might only want to get into your pants. You be careful of him. Unless that's what you're looking for-"

Gemma cut her off, giggling. She was very fond of this girl, who she'd only known for a short time but was so caring and fun. "Thanks, Kris. It's fine. I just… I think he may be a really great guy. Aside from… all the stuff that may or may not have happened to him. He just seems troubled."

Gemma's flatmate's voice moved to a whisper, and she moved in a bit closer. "I haven't told you, but when he moved in a few months ago, I caught him without a sweater on in the middle of the night in the kitchen and he had, like… hand-shaped bruises all over his arms."

"That's awful. Why he's so cautious around people, maybe."

"Well, I applaud your effort. He scares me a little bit."

Gemma laughed. "He scares me too. Hopefully he actually shows up tomorrow night."

"I'll try to keep him for you if I see him," Kris assured her. "I'll tell him you look hot and that he should stick around."

"Okay, that's enough," the other chortled. "We'll see if he's even in the house tomorrow."

"Nah, I'm sure he will be. I think you can crack him."

"I hope so," said Gemma. "I guess we'll see what happens tomorrow."

"Don't even worry. You got this."

Gemma bit her lip. "I hope so, Kris. We'll see."


	3. Chapter 3

{Hey friends! This is a long chapter, but it's worth it. I promise. :) Any feedback/comments/reviews/critiques greatly appreciated! Let me know how I'm doing!}

* * *

Gemma slammed the front door behind her.

"Hello, gorgeous! Have a good day?"

She smiled. Kris was always there to give her a boost, was always such a sweetheart.

"Apart from the regular douchebags," Gemma replied, kicking off her heels and going to flop down beside her friend, "it was fine. I'm happy to be home."

Kris handed her a gin and tonic. "What are your plans for the evening?"

"I'm not too sure. I did tell Murdoc I'd be off work at 9, and it's 9:30. Have you seen him around at all today?"

"I forgot!" The little brunette squealed, clapping her hands together excitedly. "No, I haven't seen him yet. I'm sure he'll show up! And you look perfect, even after a 9 hour shift."

"Should I change? Should I do anything?"

Kris sat back to survey her flatmate, and reached out a hand to tuck a wave of Gemma's raven purple hair into place. "Well… I could do up your makeup a bit, if you'd like. And revive your tied-up-all-day hair. And you should slip into something different, and-"

"Do you think I should?" Gemma felt silly being fussed over. "We don't even know if he'll show."

"Even if he doesn't, you'll look hot and we can go out to a bar or something. But he'll show, I can feel it." Kris paused, and a devious grin spread across her face. "Are you gonna kiss him?"

Gemma swatted her flatmate playfully, her freckled cheeks starting to burn; the thought gave her butterflies, but she stifled the feeling- she barely knew him, and that, she thought, was enough reason to not get ahead of herself. "I don't think I will. If he makes a move, maybe. I don't know really know him."

"Damn. So you don't think you'd hook up, either?"

"Not right now. I'd actually want to get to know him first."

"So you want a relationship."

"Kriiiiss," came the slightly annoyed reply.

"Sorry, sorry. No, I know." The brunette giggled. "Come on, let's go do some makeup. If he's not here by the time we get back, we'll just go."

An hour later, at 10:30, Kris had worked her magic with Gemma as her model- she was going to school for aesthetics- and she sat in the living room, proudly surveying her work. Gemma stood there, feeling a bit awkward, looking "like an absolute babe" (or so she'd been told by her flatmate); her long hair had been coaxed into gentle waves, her complexion dewy, her freckles standing out against her pale skin, her lips expertly lined to look fuller, a dark oxblood colour. Kris had done up a smokey cat-eye for her, despite Gemma feeling it to be too dark. She'd slipped into a tighter ensemble that left something to the imagination, unlike her work clothes; now she wore lace knee socks and a form fitting sweater dress that she'd pair with heeled oxfords.

"You're perfect," Kris told her.

Gemma glanced at herself in the full-length mirror that stood against the living room wall. She did look good. _Hot,_ she told herself- this was a change from her usual, relaxed jeans-and-flannel-and-boots look. "But he hasn't come yet."

"Let's just go," her roommate said, hopping up and ambling to the front door to pull on her shoes. "If he doesn't put in the time for you, he's not worth it. Arlo just texted me, we can meet up with him."

And so the two of them, albeit one slightly disappointed, left the house and clicked down the sidewalk, elbows linked for support (Gemma was clumsy in heels.) Kris was going on about a guy she'd met a few days ago- Gemma wasn't really listening, but nodded along anyway- when she spied a figure across the street, walking the opposite way. It was familiar, the figure. Tall, a lean body underneath a worn leather jacket, hands in pockets, a face shadowed by a sleek mass of raven black hair.

"Murdoc!" she called.

The figure paused, looked over at them, nodded briefly, and continued on its way, this time at a somewhat faster pace, its head cast down. It was him. His gait was crooked, pained; she could tell something was wrong.

"Hold on," she breathed to Kris, and jogged across the road- as much as one can jog in heels- towards him. Although he kept up his long stride, he let her catch up to him, barely. They were now at almost the same eye-level, and she strained to see the entirety of his face, but the streetlight above cast a shadow that obscured his features.

"Are you okay?" she asked, concerned.

"Fine," came the gruff reply.

"We were just about to go out. Did you want to come?"

"Hey!" Kris called from across the street, waving.

Here Murdoc had made an error; caught off guard, he turned his head a fraction of an inch to glance at the little brunette across the road, but this movement was just enough to cast the streetlight onto his face. Gemma stifled a gasp as her gaze was drawn to the black-purple patches on his face, his puffy black eye and bruised cheekbone, a long, deep, clean cut that stretched from his temple to his jaw. Pieces of his hair stuck together with clotted blood. He growled under his breath for stupidly giving himself away.

"I won't go out," Gemma told him, restraining herself from touching him reassuringly. "I'll come back with you."

"No. I'm fine," Murdoc repeated. He felt embarrassed- not because he didn't need company and could take care of himself, but he didn't want anyone seeing him like this. Especially not her, not right now.

"I'll just go," Kris interjected, not understanding. "I'll see you both in the morning! Have fun!" She traipsed off.

Again, Murdoc growled, "I'm fine."

Gemma wouldn't take no for an answer. Not waiting for him, she began walking towards the flat, waiting for the click of his Cuban heels to follow. Apprehensively, after a few seconds, they did. She walked in front of him rather than beside him- she knew he wouldn't want her company right now looking the way he did.

She unlocked the door to the flat, kicked off her shoes, and made a bee-line to the freezer to get him an ice pack. A bag of frozen peas would suffice. She walked to the living room, where he had thrown himself haphazardly over the loveseat, and handed it to him. He took it silently and winced as he pressed it to his face. She took a seat beside him quietly, unsure what to do.

They sat there for a few moments, the only noise the crunching of the bag of peas, until she gathered the courage to ask, "Did you get into a fight?"

He turned his head very purposefully towards her and shot her a disdainful look.

"I'm sorry, that was a stupid question," she mumbled. "Is everything ok? Other than… your face?"

"It is now."

"So… you won?"

He nodded almost undetectably. A hint of a smirk etched itself onto his thin lips.

"Do you need anything?"

"Would you… be able to get me a beer?"

She nodded, and did without question. His rough fingers grazed her own as she handed him the can. He drank thirstily.

"Could I see your cut?"

Again, he shot her that look.

"I know what I'm doing," she told him. "I just want to see if it needs any attention. I used to patch my brothers up all the time."

He paused, interpreting what she had said- her brothers? Was she used to this sort of thing, blood and bruises?- but then he felt annoyance. "Why should I let you?"

"Why?" Gemma was taken aback. "Because I want to help you. I want us to be friends."

Murdoc cocked an eyebrow, the blood-matted hair stuck to his forehead straining. Gemma felt her cheeks burn with the raw statement she'd just uttered. They stared at each other for a few moments, and gingerly, grumpily, Murdoc removed the makeshift ice pack from his face and let her scooch over, unthinkingly placing her hands on his face to turn it and apply gentle pressure. He stared ahead, refusing to make eye contact with her, but huffed slightly as she touched the black-purple that had begin to blossom under his skin. She trailed her fingers below his cut. It was long, and looked to be caused by a knife, scarily- but not deep enough to need stitches. Dirt and sand and grime had gotten caught in its oozing surface. Silently, she got up to leave and returned with gauze and rubbing alcohol. Murdoc exhaled sharply as she cleaned away the crust and muck from his face, but didn't utter a word.

"You don't need to get it sewn up," Gemma told him, suddenly aware of how close they were. Her leg was gently pressed up against hers, but he hadn't moved it. She wondered if he noticed.

He was quiet a few moments, and then muttered, "Gonna shower. Be right back," and quickly left the room, leaving the bag of peas and empty beer can on the side table.

Gemma sighed to herself. He was difficult. More difficult than she thought he would be. He didn't seem to understand the concept of being shown kindness, or having to trust. He was like that stray cat she'd found years ago in Toronto, she thought. Not tame. This was a good step, though. He hadn't shied away when she'd come close to his battered face, close enough to see every little blemish and pore. She felt a sudden pang of sympathy for him as his footsteps gently padded upstairs, the sound of the shower head on. Perhaps he'd come from a worse background than she thought.

But he was making an effort, so it seemed. As much as he could, anyway. Once he felt more comfortable around her, she speculated as she absent-mindedly got up to snatch the bag and beer can, he'd open up more. She might get a genuine smile out of him. She grinned to herself, placing the bag of peas in the freezer. That would be nice. She threw the beer can out, and ambled back to the loveseat, unsure of what to do with herself.

A few minutes later, the shower stopped. She listened intently to his soft footsteps that gave such contrast to the usual cockiness of his heeled gait. The bathroom door opened upstairs and he padded into his room. She heard him rustling around, items of clothing being thrown and sifted through. Butterflies in her stomach rose, to her embarrassment, as he sauntered downstairs.

He stood at the landing, gazing at her out of his one functional eye; the other was still closed up. His hair was now shiny and clean. He wore faded bluejeans, a gray t-shirt and a black cardigan- and, as always, that odd upside-down cross necklace. All at once, the mingled smell of cigarette smoke and cologne hit her, and she breathed it in. Now cleaned up, he looked good. The word _gorgeous_ came to mind, in a weird, unconventional way. She smiled at him.

"Why'd you dress up?" he asked.

Gemma untensed as he said something, anything, finally. His gravelly voice, she knew, was forced to sound indifferent, but he was genuinely curious.

"Well… There was a chance we were going to meet up tonight, right?"

He said nothing, surveying her as she sat awkwardly on the couch. She liked that he hadn't apologized for being so late.

"Why, do you think it's too much?"

A low, husky chuckle rose from his throat, and a crooked grin lit up his dark features. "No, love, it's not too much."

Gemma's freckled cheeks began to burn. That grin made her melt. She glanced up at him shyly at him; still smiling, his lean figure meandered across the floor and sat boldly beside her on the loveseat. _This is different_ , Gemma thought to herself. _He's like a different person._ Still shy, though. He wasn't _right_ beside her. There was some legroom between the both of them, and although trying to act like he knew what he was doing, Murdoc looked a bit awkward. He fumbled with his hands, not knowing where to put them.

"So… now that we're hanging out, as it were, we should talk!"

Murdoc looked at her blankly, considering what she had said but clearly not enjoying the idea of speaking about himself.

"Like, I want to get to know you! Because I barely do."

He chewed on the inside of his cheek. No reply.

"But I'll go first," Gemma added quickly. She knew she had to open up to him before he could to her. She took a deep breath, and began.

"So I figure you should know I'm here to escape my family back in Toronto. My parents were dealers and… they were awful. They'd abuse my brothers and I."

She glanced over to gage Murdoc's expression. His eyes were cast downwards, pensive. She continued.

"Nothing would be in the cupboards half the time. I had to provide myself with my own food. I moved out when I was 14, and I've done everything for myself."

He was looking at her dead-on now, and she rolled up the sleeve of her sweater to reveal a set of claw-like scars on her inner arm above her elbow. "I have a lot of these," she told him, forcing a smile. It was painful to talk about, but she knew she had to wear her heart on her sleeve to get through to him. And it was good to talk about her past to someone new. He stared at the marring on her skin, slightly taken aback.

"But it's good," she went on, "that I'm out of there. I'm in a safe place now, I can start over. I'm still kind of fucked up, and maybe I always will be, but right now I'm okay."

Silently, he shrugged off his cardigan. Hand-shaped bruises, some old and purple, some new and green-blue, scattered his sinewy forearms. She gently placed a hand beside one of them, and whispered, "what happened?"

He shook his head and smiled caustically, putting his cardigan back on. "Fights. Me dad. Me brother."

"Why are you going back to your old place? You live here now, you-"

"It's more complicated than that," he interrupted, his otherwise smooth voice sharp. "It's not that easy."

"I'm sorry." Gemma took his rough hand, and squeezed. "I know."

He didn't squeeze back, but she saw his body tense up slightly, like he wasn't used to this kind of attention.

"You know," he murmured, gaze cast downward, "I've 'ad people say that, but I think you do."

She squeezed his hand again, and after some deliberation, he squeezed back.


	4. Chapter 4

They had spent the night talking. About life, about jobs, about little things; nothing too personal, but they were getting there. Murdoc was shy, still. Although he'd been brave enough to squeeze Gemma's hand back, he hadn't made any other moves. And she was okay with that. It was ironic, she thought, that on a superficial level he came across as so abrasive, so rough, ill-tempered- and he was those things, but he was so many other things, too. He was a good listener, and mulled over everything she said carefully. His replies were often brusque, but he didn't waste words. He was intelligent. He was sarcastic, with a dark sense of humour, and after she'd said something silly (elicited by a few gin-and-tonics) was the first time she'd actually heard him laugh. It was velvety and throaty. Sexy. He'd loosened up after a few beers, seeming to have forgotten the awful welts on his face. But she didn't notice them. He was something else, more than a tall, lean badboy in a leather jacket, and she enjoyed his company very much. Despite his outwardly rough appearance, she felt safe with him. The only sign of something more lurking within him was the lecherous flash in his eye whenever she bent to pick something up, her ass unintentionally up in the air, gravity briefly opening the neck of her dress. A bit drunk, she didn't care. She felt hot and he wasn't being inappropriate. In fact, she liked the attention, and hiked up her dress a bit as she would sit down, exposing the soft, smooth, pale, tattooed flesh of her thighs. He, drunk as well, made no advances, but would gaze at her, almost predatorily, that expression she found so oddly, wrongly attractive.

Murdoc had actually slept in the flat that night, and Gemma, having woken up before him, decided to make breakfast. Arlo and Kris hadn't yet returned, so breakfast for 2 it would be. It was 11 AM. She made crepes, bacon, eggs, sliced fruit, as she normally did on her days off when there was enough food in the fridge. She ate and then carefully covered the rest with aluminum foil.

She glanced at herself in the living room mirror. She felt self-conscious this morning, with her misplaced hair, no makeup, no form-fitting dress. She was in plaid pyjama bottoms and a tank top. But who was she kidding, she asked herself? He'd seen her like this more times than she cared to count, and had only seen her done up nicely once, last night. He had seemed to be the superficial type, but after last night, he had mostly convinced her otherwise. Just in case, she pulled the neck of her tank top down, exposing a bit more cleavage than normal.

Soft, familiar, padding footsteps alerted her that he was awake. Butterflies rose in her stomach as he did his little morning routine and came downstairs, half asleep, running a hand through his raven-black bedhead. She was surprised that he was uncaring- or comfortable- enough to appear in a t-shirt and a pair of boxer briefs. _Not that I'm complaining,_ she said to herself. She'd felt a pang of shame as her eyes drifted to where they shouldn't have- but he was incredibly well-endowed, so there was that.

"Good morning," she said, smiling.

Rubbing the sleep out of his eyes, Murdoc removed his hand from his face, and focussed blearily on her. Parts of his face were darker now, the bruises having aged- but his black eye had opened, and though still puffy, he could see out of it. He looked a mix of crabby and just-waking-up.

"I put on a pot of coffee for you," Gemma told him. "And Bailey's on the counter."

Silently, he padded to the kitchen, poured himself a cup. She sat on the sofa waiting for him to wake up and occupied herself with her own cup of tea and a crappy novel she'd picked up for 3 pounds in a little convenience store.

10 minutes later, Murdoc strolled into the kitchen, mug in hand- which she suspected contained more Bailey's than coffee- and sat down into the armchair opposite her.

"Alright," he said, his morning voice husky.

"How are you?"

"Feeling pretty good, actually," he replied, taking a swig of his drink. "I don't think I've slept that well in… a while."

She smiled at him. "That's good! I've made breakfast, already, if you'd like. It's just on the kitchen table."

He cocked an eyebrow quizzically, and swiftly got up to see. She heard the crumple of foil, and a little "ooh" rose from his throat. He quickly returned to his armchair, everything piled on one plate. He stabbed hungrily with a fork at a piece of fruit and shoved it into his mouth like he hadn't eaten anything in the past 24 hours. She read her novel as he devoured his food, a little amused, a little concerned.

"Thanks."

She glanced up. His plate was empty, and he reclined contentedly, his long sinewy legs draping over the arms of his chair. He looked at her steadily, a bit shyly, still self-conscious of his battered face.

"You're welcome."

"D'you make good food this often?" He threw her that tiny crooked grin.

"Only when I have time, a few times a week. It's not that great, just easy."

"Well, if you did, I might be inclined to come 'round a bit more," he half-joked, winking at her. He was coming out of his shell, but he knew he was charming. If he turned it up any more she'd probably be reduced to a giggling, blushing pile on the couch.

"Or, you know," Gemma suggested, sassily cocking an eyebrow at him, "you could come over because you think I'm cool and just really like hanging out with me."

A chuckle rose in his throat, a smooth, deep, velvety sound, and he ran a hand through his raven-black fringe. He looked dead at her with those mismatched eyes, then bashfully down to the carpet. "There is that, yes. Of course."

"Because, I think," she went on, feeling bold, "I like you."

He now kept his gaze on her, both feeling cautious and intrigued. In one fluid motion she got up and sat on the free arm of his chair, stifling a grin as he tensed up. This was a rather audacious move, she knew, but he, with his lack of filter, would have cursed at her to get off by now, and there was obvious fire between them, so what would it hurt?

She looked at him expectantly. She was suddenly aware of how low her tank top was straining as she slowly leaned downward. He fought to not look at her breasts, but he wasn't succeeding.

She was now close enough to him to smell his breath, coffee-and-booze, his usual pungent smell of cigarettes and cheap cologne. Their faces were level. His dark eyes, one pupil black, one pupil red, observed her guardedly. He wet his lips. He inched forward a bit, clearly bridling himself in, and she reciprocated, their lips just close enough to touch-

And then she quickly slipped away and plopped back onto the loveseat. Murdoc looked at her incredulously, eyes narrowed, and murmured through a tiny smirk, "Wot you playin' at, love, hm?"

Gemma shot him a confident grin, tongue between her teeth, and shrugged. "I'm just having fun."

"Saucy little minx," he growled, his smirk widening. He was at once both incredibly enticing and also a bit frightening. He looked at her in a way that she couldn't describe. He leaned forward like he was about to get up and advance towards her, but the sound of the front door unlocking paused the interaction between them.

Arlo stumbled in, Kris behind him, flaking makeup, both in clothing from the night before. They threw off their shoes and bumbled into the living room, Kris draping herself across the loveseat, head in Gemma's lap. Arlo sat in an armchair beside Murdoc, who had draped a blanket over himself to cover his bruised arms, the two of them awkwardly mumbling "alright," unsure of how to speak to one another.

"I'm so _tiiired,_ " Kris whined, dragging her hands across her already-smudged face. "You should've been with us last night, though, it was insane. We-"

She paused to look over at the sound that had interrupted her. Murdoc had put his coffee mug down on his side table a bit too heavily. Kris frowned back up at Gemma. "Why is he so bruised?"

The purple-haired girl glanced at Murdoc. He looked slightly annoyed, and grumbled, "Bit of an altercation."

Kris looked a concerned. "Did you… did you two have a good time last night?"

Gemma patted her on the shoulder reassuringly. "Yeah, we did. He's lots of fun."

Kris's eyes widened. "Did you-"

"Alright, that's enough." Gemma interrupted. She wanted to avoid having that conversation, not right now. "You look tired. I think you better get some sleep." She looked at Arlo, who was nearly dozing off in his chair. "You too."

"You're telling me about this after" Kris whispered as she got up, raising her eyebrows at her friend. She clomped upstairs in her minidress, Arlo sluggishly following suit.

Gemma felt her cheeks burn as she cast her gaze to Murdoc, who was surveying her, eyebrow cocked.

"Did we what?" he challenged.

"She's just…" she struggled to find the words. "She wants to know, if, you know..."

"What?" His voice rose in question, toying with her a bit, getting back at her for earlier. "What does she want to know, hm?"

"Are you really gonna do this?"

He shrugged, mocking her playfully. "I'm just having fun."

"Yeah, that wasn't as good as mine. You're gonna have to try harder."

His eyes glinted, tunnels boring into hers, and rose from his chair. He stalked towards her, slowly, and stood over her, a lewdness darkening his features. Again, she felt that odd mix of afraid and enticed, and her heart beat a little faster. He bent over so that they were almost at eye level. Again, his scent overwhelmed her, and he smirked twistedly, revealing those crooked teeth she found so charming. But charming wasn't what he was, right now. It was the way his jet black hair fell over his face, partially obscuring his dark eyes, the 5 o'clock shadow he'd grown in, the sharp jutting of his cheekbones, a jaw that had been carved out of stone. He casually reached out a rough hand and coaxed up her chin gently, and purred in a tone that made her insides flutter, "Better watch out, love."

And as quickly as he'd walked over, he'd slunk away, padding footsteps up the stairs.

"You're a tease, Murdoc!" She called, frustrated and aroused, clenching her fists, trying to force out the warmness that had bubbled inside her stomach. "You're a fucking tease!"

She'd underestimated him. He clearly knew what he was doing.

She heard a warm, velvety chuckle from upstairs.


	5. Chapter 5

Murdoc had left about an hour later, saying he'd had "things to do." She didn't dare ask what, but had told him to take care of himself as nonchalantly as she could manage. She suspected it had something to do with his home, his brother and father, and that drugs were involved- hard ones, most likely- but it wasn't her place to ask, not yet. She felt afraid for him and admired him at the same time, how he appeared so fearless, how he took everything so coolly. He truly was the definition of a badboy.

Kris awoke a few hours after he'd gone, and though hungover, was incredibly eager to know what had "happened" last night. Nothing had, Gemma had told her. They had gotten drunk, exchanged a few lusty glances, she'd showed herself off (rather regretfully, now that she was sober). But nothing had happened.

"Well, I heard you yell something at him after I went upstairs. What was that?" Kris pried in between glugging a huge glass of water. "You guys didn't hook up, but _something_ happened, I know."

"He… almost kissed me, sort of." Butterflies persistently rose in Gemma's stomach as she said this. "It's hard to explain. We sort of have a game."

"A game?"

"He was just teasing me."

Kris clapped her hands together, an endearing habit of hers, and squealed girlishly. "How did you crack him? What did you do?"

"I just… I talked about myself, first. About back home. And he related to it, I think."

There was a pause. She hoped Kris didn't ask any questions, because she'd told Murdoc more than she'd told the little brunette. But Kris only nodded solemnly.

"He's really… something else, though." Gemma grinned at the thought of their silly, tipsy interactions the night before. "He's like a completely different person."

"Are you seeing him again tonight?"

"I think so. He said he'd pop by once he was done his… prior commitment, he said maybe 'round 7."

"Did he tell you what he does?"

Gemma shook her head. "No. Do you know?"

"I think-" Kris hesitated, her voice lowering. "I think he might be a dealer, but-"

"Like what kind of drugs?"

"I don't know. He's come in smelling like pot in the middle of the night, but I don't know anything else."

"Has he-" Gemma paused, feeling a bit embarrassed. "Has he ever brought any girls home?"

Kris laughed. "No, never. He's been here for about 4 months and he hasn't even done it once. Why? Do you want him to yourself?"

She did, very much, but well-meaning Kris made her feel a bit flustered. "He just seems like he'd be a ladies' man."

"Him?" The brunette chortled. "No. I mean, I guess I see how you could find him attractive, but-"

"No, trust me." She thought of the looks he'd given her last night, intentional or not- how it had taken every ounce of her drunken strength to reel herself in. And his voice, how he often slurred his words, sober or otherwise. How he'd purred at her, how he'd cooed, and how he could so easily switch to a gravelly, husky tone that was equally as attractive. "He knows what he's doing. I didn't think so at first, and it doesn't seem like it, but he does."

"You want him so bad. Holy shit. Do you think he wants you, though?"

"Keep your voice down," Gemma hissed, cheeks flushing.

But Kris kept on, giddy. "Do you?"

"If I tell you, will you stop talking about it?"

The brunette nodded.

A giggle rose in Gemma's throat. She often wasn't one to talk about relationships, but talking about Murdoc made her feel like a teenaged girl. "I'm pretty sure. If you'd have seen him yesterday, or today even, before he walked upstairs…"

"Keep going!"

"There's just… something about him, you know? I've had boyfriends but I… I've never been so… I don't know. It's just different."

"Do I hear gossip?"

To Gemma's embarrassment, Arlo had silently ambled down the stairs and was now standing on the landing in boxers and a housecoat. A ridiculous, huge grin spread across Kris' face, and Gemma pressed a palm to her freckled forehead, annoyed.

"Wot we talkin' about, then?" Arlo persisted, clearly wanting to be included. "You can tell me, I won't say anything."

"Gemma's got a boyfrieeennd," Kris sang, gently nudging her with a shoulder. "And you know who it is, too."

"I don't have a boyfriend," Gemma protested.

Arlo puzzled to himself a bit, and suggested, "The bloke you work with that 'its on you? Wot's his name, Blake?"

"Try again," Kris urged.

"One of Kris' mates that came over last weekend and asked for your number."

Kris beckoned Arlo over, and whispered, "it's _Murdoc."_

"He's not my boyfriend. He's not," Gemma objected, feeling a bit picked on. "We're friends, right now."

Arlo didn't seem to hear her. A look of disbelief spread across his face, and his heavy brows knit together. "Wot? You? With him? E's a bit odd, don't you think?"

"He's nice," mumbled Gemma.

"Wow." Arlo chuckled, genuinely surprised. "That is not something I would have expected."

She repeated herself, flustered. "He's not my boyfriend. But stay cool about it, okay? Just… act normal. No one was really supposed to know anything."

Arlo raised his hand as if he was taking an oath. "I will stay cool and act normal. What about you Kris?"

"I swear."

"Thank you." The purple-haired girl sighed, half relieved that the shenanigans were over and half relieved that they'd both sworn to not act like idiots. She wasn't sure she trusted Kris, who despite having good intentions, tended to be a bit… _too much_ sometimes.

"He's supposed to be coming over in 2 hours," Kris informed her male roommate.

"We'll stay out of your way, then. We promise."

Gemma had thanked them and quickly escaped upstairs to her room to decompress and put herself together. It was her day off, and she'd spent it in pyjamas. She showered, making sure to shave her legs- _just in case_ , she told herself, though she was almost positive nothing like that would happen. She used her expensive, fragrant shower gel, and her expensive, fragrant perfume. She'd straightened her hair and done up her face in her signature cat-eye. She'd pulled on leggings and a fading tshirt. She wanted to look good, but not last-night-good. She felt silly about it now, having dressed up for such a small occasion.

She glanced at her bedside clock. 7:24. She had time for a quick cigarette, she figured; he was already late. She stepped out onto the balcony that connected with her bedroom and overlooked their tiny backyard, and lit up a fag, inhaling deeply. She snickered at herself, at her own giddiness, at how her stomach churned excitedly whenever she thought of him or remembered little things from the night before. Things stuck out, things she'd been particularly captivated by. His laugh, dark, distinct, and the look that accompanied it. How it had crinkled his eyes, but how his sneering mouth had betrayed the kindness in his expression. How he'd eyed her yesterday night, almost like a piece of meat- she chastised herself for being drawn to him for that- but there was something in his two-toned gaze that was animalistic, and she couldn't draw away whenever he looked at her. How he'd played with her this morning, lifted up her face with a long, rough finger, how she could practically taste his breath. How much she had wanted to kiss him then- but she wasn't sure he was the kind of person to play nice. Not that she would care, but-

"Mind if I join you?"

A familiar husky voice was right behind her, bodies almost touching. She jumped, surprised, smoke billowing in a short burst out of her mouth. He chuckled.

"Sorry, no. Not at all. I was just a bit lost in thought." She felt her cheeks flush again, annoyed at how often they gave her away.

"D'yeh have an extra fag?"

She felt her pockets. "Last one, sorry."

"S'fine." He reached around her and deftly snatched hers from her fingers, took a hit and held it for a few moments. She yanked it back playfully. He shuffled forward so that they were side by side, overlooking the terrace.

"How was…" Gemma struggled to find the words. "Work?"

He shrugged. "Fine, I s'pose. Didn't have to beat anyone up." He winked at her, and her stomach fluttered.

"I don't think you've told me what you do." She fought to keep her voice nonchalant, wondering if she'd overstepped her boundary.

And she had. He paused a few moments, and a bit gruffly took the cigarette out of her hands, inhaling smoke, letting it trail out of his nostrils. "Nothing you'd be interested in."

 _But I would be,_ she wanted to tell him. _Aren't you a dealer?_ Instead she kept quiet. She'd seen him snap, and for him to be angry at her was the last thing she wanted. She changed the subject. "What did you want to do this evening?

He shrugged, still a bit cold. "Dunno."

"Right. Well, I'm pretty broke, so let's stay here."

"Sure."

Desperate to get his mind off of her misplaced question, she gently tugged on his arm. "I'm going to go downstairs to grab a drink. Come with me."

His interest piqued, he flicked the cigarette off the balcony and followed her. Gemma was mortified that Kris and Arlo might get in their way, but both of their doors were closed. The house was silent.

Downstairs she handed him a beer, and she poured herself a gin. He stayed quiet as he sipped. She cursed at herself for asking a dumb question and causing this uneasiness.

The best way, she knew, to change the atmosphere was to ask someone about something that interested them. She gestured at the inverted cross hanging around his neck, genuinely curious. "What does it mean?"

"I'm a satanist," he said flatly. A crooked grin played on his face as he watched her expression go from inquisitive to dumbfounded.

That sounded scary. "What… are the principles of Satanism?"

"Lots of things." He paused briefly, thinking. "Mostly about individualism. Independence."

Gemma felt relieved. He noticed, and teased, "Wot, did you think I sacrificed goats on the daily?"

"No, no! I've just… Satanism is a new thing to me. Never met anyone who's into it. From an outsider's perspective it comes across as a little creepy."

He finished his beer, crushed it and tossed it into the bin, shooting her a dark grin. "Parts of it are."

She decided she wasn't going to ask any more questions on the subject. She wasn't surprised by his odd taste in beliefs, as he was a generally… _unconventional_ person, but she couldn't help but feel a bit wary of him, all of the sudden. She watched him thoughtfully as he reached down to grab another beer can from the fridge, took a few mouthfuls, checked his phone absentmindedly. She grasped that she was, in fact, pursuing someone extremely troubled, more than she had thought. Easily one of the most attractive people she'd ever seen, somehow- in a unique sort of way- but she pieced together all the little parts of him she'd seen and realized how deeply, utterly damaged he was. It occurred to her that he was an alcoholic, often downing a few beers when he was home, more if he felt like it. He was a Satanist. That was just a bizarre thing in itself. She suspected he was a dealer, or at least did drugs. Pot was fine, but he had a devil-may-care attitude and she wouldn't have been surprised if he was into harder stuff- heroine, cocaine. She'd noticed a few scabs on his arms when he'd shown her his bruises, but she'd thought nothing of it at the time. And he had a hard time trusting. It hadn't taken her long to get him to crack, but he still had refused to tell her the more haunting details of his life. Which was understandable- maybe she was being too expectant? She realized, then and there, that really she didn't know him well at all.

He was wearing a faded leather jacket today, arms covered as usual. She tried to picture the purple marks where he'd been grabbed, maybe thrown around. She hoped he hadn't acquired any more. His face was healing but still puffy, his cut doing its best to close up. He regarded her coolly, eyes narrowed, unaware of her worrying thoughts.

She suddenly felt a little awkward, and broke the silence. "You look good today."

An eyebrow cocked underneath his black fringe.

She fell over her words- had he taken that the wrong way? "I mean, you always look good, it's just that-"

"I get it. Thank you," Murdoc chuckled, that smooth effortless sound, like he knew what it did to her. He looked her over slowly, eyes lingering a bit too long. She tried not to squirm under his hungry gaze. "You look lovely today, as well."

Gemma crossed her arms, subconsciously pushing her already ample cleavage, and teased, "Are you hitting on me?"

"Maybe," he replied coolly, his fingernails clicking on the counter. "What if I am?"

"That's totally fine."

She watched him. Most likely on an empty stomach, the beers were beginning to go to his head. He was loosening up, his speech more fluid, cocky confidence creeping gradually over his face as they continued to flirt. She, also having had nothing to eat for several hours, was beginning to feel a bit fuzzy from her drink, too. _Lightweights,_ she thought.

He fluidly stepped over, towering over her, the slightest bit too close- but she could see that was his intention. So close she could smell his familiar scent, see every detail of his face- how his cheeks hollowed out beneath his jutting cheekbones, the never-ending depth of his mismatched eyes and the darkened bags under them; a misshapen nose that had been broken countless times; sharp, crooked teeth, a nick from a razor above his lip, a pimple on his chin, a jaw that had been carved out of stone. She looked up at him as he slowly backed her against the counter, their bodies a few centimetres apart.

Just then he paused, mind on something else, and backed away to the opposite counter, smirking wickedly.

Gemma stood there, bewildered. "What was that?"

"Thought I heard someone come down the stairs." He motioned to the stairwell.

But she knew he hadn't. He couldn't wipe that sneer off of his face.

Gemma threw up her hands, exasperated. "Alright, you got me. We're even. No more."

"But love," he purred, gaze darkening. "You're so much fun to play with."

"Stop," she complained, but it came out as more of a murmur. _How did he do it?_ Her body was telling her he was simultaneously attractive and dangerous at the same time. Her stomach fluttered.

"You c'mere, then," he demanded, patting the counter beside him, nails clicking on cheap plastic.

She took a few hesitant steps over and stood beside him. She tried to appear at calm, not to let him see she was uneasy, and asked, "What?" But it came out as a near-whisper. She cleared her throat. She wasn't uneasy in a _bad_ way- it was just the how he stared at her so intently, fingers tapping rhythmically, impatiently, expectantly on the kitchen counter. He towered over her, and she tensed up. He was going to do it. Her breath hitched in her throat.

She'd kissed quite a few people back home, but none of them had gone in to kiss her for the first time quite like Murdoc had.

He reached out a hand and toyed with the hairs on the nape of her neck, pulling her head back carefully. He leaned in, down. Almost everyone she'd kissed had approached her shyly, eyes wide.

But not him.

That crooked smirk spread across his face, his hair falling over his eyes. He drew his tongue over his lips, cocky. He paused, his face an inch away from hers; she was as still as stone. She could hear his heavy breath, hot against her face, feel it in her parted mouth. He looked at her like no one else had- not timidly, but as if he was sizing her up, as if he wanted to devour her. His eyes drifted to her lips briefly, and he moved in.

He kissed her abruptly, roughly, but gently enough; he was intoxicating, lightly scraping his nails down her neck, tasting like cigarette smoke, tobacco, coffee, alcohol. The scruff on his face prickled against her skin, the unexpected softness of his hair pressed against her forehead. He smirked into her mouth and pulled back, regarding her with amusement, a hint of a chuckle rising in his throat.

Gemma frowned, her lips suddenly feeling bare without his touch. "What's wrong?"

He tapped lightly on her chest with a fingernail. "You gotta breathe, love."

She inhaled and found herself gasping for air, embarrassed as Murdoc watched, expelling a little entertained snort. She looked up at him and stretched upwards, wanting more. Instead he draped an arm across her lower back and pushed so that they were side-by-side, and motioned to the upper floor with his head. She'd been ready to say something, but sure enough, soft thumps sounded down the stairwell. Slowly. _Kris._ She smiled as her flatmate padded down the steps at the pace of a turtle, clearly not wanting to be heard. Murdoc took a swig of his beer, and Gemma did her best to busy herself, but his arm around her waist was too much. She couldn't focus on anything else. She'd forgotten what the touch of someone new felt like, but she'd never experienced anything like his. She pressed gently into him, falling into a solid wall of bone and lean muscle. She'd be surprised if there was any body fat on him at all. He reciprocated by pulling her closer, long fingers wrapping around the bone of her hip.

A giddiness rose in her as Kris warily appeared on the stairwell landing, glanced around carefully, and then spotted the two of them. She did her best to keep cool but ended up goggling at the two of them beside each other.

"I'm just down for a glass of wine," she told them, shooting a not-so-subtle look at Gemma. "What are you two up to?"

Gemma glanced up at Murdoc, who was smirking into his beercan.

"Er… nothing. Just talking."

Kris opened her mouth, and Gemma knew exactly what she would have said. _I didn't hear much._ But she kept quiet, thankfully, as she stood on her tiptoes to reach a wineglass from the cupboard. All the while she was downstairs, she gawked at the two of them, transfixed at how he grasped her so firmly, coolly. Gemma tried not to giggle. Finally, without questions, Kris disappeared up the stairs.

"She is an odd one, isn't she," Murdoc mumbled, finishing off the last of his drink.

"She's just very excited. About lots of things. She's really lovely. Also, I think she's a bit apprehensive about you, so.."

"Apprehensive." He drew the word out in his gravelly voice.

"I get it. You're kind of scary."

Murdoc chortled, looking down at her with quizzical eyes. "Am I?"

 _You still are a little bit._ "Yeah. You're just very different."

"Different, eh? May I ask how?"

"I just… I don't know. You're not like most people."

He paused, tapping his nails on her side pensively, and said after a few seconds, "No, no I am not." There was a cocky tone to his voice. _So modest, too._ "Neither are you, though," he told her, that little grin adorning his face, charming crooked teeth on display.

Gemma's cheeks started to burn. That felt like a huge compliment coming from him, who had just days previous never said more than a few words to her, never made an effort to go out of his way to talk to her- or much of anyone, it seemed. She cast her gaze up at him, at once transfixed on those mismatched eyes that pulled her in. "You're something else, aren't you?"

He looked off into the distance for a few moments and purred, "You have no idea, love." And then those eyes were staring dead at her in a different sort of way; she felt herself recoil.

A wicked chuckle rose in his throat. "No idea."


	6. Chapter 6

{Thanks for the reviews, lovelies. They are always appreciated, let me know how I'm doing! Hope you enjoy this chapter. I hope no one young and impressionable is reading this, because Gemma truly is an awful role model. :D}

* * *

That had puzzled her to no end, what she'd told him last night.

That he was something else. Not in a joking way, either, not teasing. He was totally serious. It was sinister, the way he'd said it. He'd managed to make it sexy- she melted at the sound of his voice when he purred like that- but regardless…

"You're moving pretty fast, yeah?" Kris had questioned Gemma before she'd gone to bed. Not in a berating way, just a question. Stupidly, it had kept her up most of the night. They were moving quickly, but Gemma hadn't stopped to consider how or why.

How? She wasn't sure. She truly had no idea. She'd made friends as quickly, but never anything to do with guys. Maybe it was because she'd opened up from the start, telling him about her awful past. Maybe it was because of that night they'd both gotten drunk. She remembered the first time she'd actually spoken to him, when he'd been tipsy. It made her question her own morals that she'd still put in effort and agreed to hang out with him after he'd blatantly eyed her like a piece of meat- but she shook the thought from her mind. She was fucked up, she knew. Maybe that was why.

And she wasn't sure why they'd clicked like they did, either. She'd been afraid of him. Still was, a little bit- that occasional dangerous glint in his eye hinted that there was a part of him he wasn't revealing to her, not yet. Why had he allowed her to get so close to him? Kris knew a possible answer, but was too nice to say it. And Gemma knew, too. She'd experienced it multiple times; guys who reeled you in, were charming and got close to you because they only wanted something physical. …And Murdoc had done all of those things; why, however, she wasn't sure. He'd been putting aside a lot of time for her, too- like today, he said he'd take her out for a late dinner after work. So, she'd just decided, she'd wear a crewneck shirt. Nothing on display. Dressed modestly.

And so she'd come home, changed, and relaxed with Arlo, waiting. He'd thrown her another surprised look when she'd answered his question- what was she doing tonight? Any mention of she and Murdoc together left him baffled. "Wot d'yeh see in him?" He'd ask. "Bit of a crreepy bloke, don't you think?"

He _was_ a little creepy, but she wasn't going to admit that to anyone. His unsettling mannerisms- the way he looked at her sometimes, like a cat with a mouse. How he often stalked around, with his cocky, intimidating gait. How he could move his speaking voice to a growl, and how he chuckled; a deep velvety sound, but also an utterly nasty, filthy sound, too. She'd never heard anyone with a voice as spellbindingly attractive and as wicked as he had. Somehow, these expressional habits of his added to his unconventional charm.

Still, though, unlike other deceptively charming men she'd been involved- the majority for a very brief amount of time- he hadn't made any unwanted moves on her, not yet. They'd just mucked around and made out yesterday, but that was all. He hadn't overstepped his boundaries- he was very good at reading her- although he'd come close. He was eager and deprived, she could tell, from the way he kissed her. He had feverishly gripped her hips, pulling her pelvis up against his, and run his hands through her hair, clenching tufts in a fist near her neck, hard enough to make her gasp. He'd trailed hungrily down her jaw and her neck, knowing all the right spots to nip and focus on- but she'd pulled him back up before he'd gotten below her collarbones. She was deprived, too- but who was he, really? She didn't know, and she wanted to before things got any more serious.

The front door opened and shut, and a familiar cocky gait sounded on the flooring. Murdoc had strode in, not bothering to take his shoes off.

"'Ello, love," he purred, shooting her that crooked grin. He'd figured out all the buttons to make her like putty in his hands. "Ready to be off?"

Gemma beamed. She said goodbye to Arlo, whose face had now taken on an expression of bewilderment, and got up to greet the dark, handsome man in the foyer. Shyly, she held her arms out for a hug, and he pulled her in roughly, her head against his bony chest, breathing in his smell. It was always consistent- stale cigarette smoke, alcohol, cheap cologne. Tempted to stay there for the rest of the night, cozied up between a wall of warmth and two sinewy arms, she had to pull herself away. She tugged on a pair of Chelseas, and he held the door open for her.

Outside, in the driveway they'd previously had no use for, was a silver Vauxhall Astra. Gemma looked at Murdoc, perplexed. She hadn't heard him pull up; usually he walked. "I didn't know you had a car."

He ushered her inside. It was lived-in, with cigarette butts in the ashtray, and air fresheners hanging off the rearview mirror. He hopped in the driver's side and shoved the keys in the ignition, revving the engine. "It's, uh… not new. Just been in the shop."

"What happened to it?"

"Some fucking wanker slashed my tires," he growled. "And smashed the windshield."

Something made her question the legitimacy of this car- and people certainly didn't just go around causing extensive damage to others' automobiles for no reason- but she was distracted from her thoughts as he pulled out of the driveway and ripped down the street, easily at the twice the speed limit. She clenched her seat, fingernails nearly ripping through the fabric. He, on the otherhand, was reclining easily, one hand on the wheel.

"Where are we going?" She asked through clenched teeth.

"I thought we'd go to a little pub, a favourite of mine."

"Is the food good? I could eat."

"This isn't any old pub, love." He looked towards her as he spoke, but she wished he''d keep his eyes on the road. "S"quite nice. I think you'll like it."

She didn't reply, too nervous to open her mouth. He drove like a complete maniac. Clearly he was having too much fun- whenever he pulled up the stoplights, the tyres would squeal, smoke billowing out from under them. He knew what he was doing- he seemed like he had total control over the car- but she wondered: how had he not gotten any tickets yet? He chuckled as they flew around corners. His recklessness made him seem even more dangerous, and she couldn't help but look at him with a warmness bubbling in her stomach- albeit a fear that made it churn around, too- at him as he navigated deftly through the city.

She relaxed as he maneuvered the car into an empty spot by the sidewalk. She practically jumped out, and followed him into a small, dingy-looking redbrick building. She was ready to be unimpressed, but the inside was beautiful, slate and dark hardwood, the lighting moody. Behind the bar, hundreds of bottles sat, too many to count. Billiards balls clacked. He glanced over his shoulder at her smugly as he led her to a small table in the corner.

He crossed his legs and leaned back in his chair, handing her a drink menu. "What d'yeh fancy? Whatever you'd like."

Gemma took a glance at the cocktails. A mix of various things- including vintage gin and elderflower liqueur, her favourites- looked inviting. But then she glanced at the price. At all of the cocktail prices, and was mildly horrified. "Murdoc, these are expensive. 40 pounds for a drink is a bit stiff, yeah?"

"I can afford it," he said matter of factly. "Tell me what you want and I'll go up to the bar. I've an arrangement with the owner."

She told him, and he left. She watched as the bartender, who was clearly familiar with him, shook his hand, smiling. Murdoc was charming as hell, but had she really been unaware, these past few fast-moving days, of how sketchy he was? A car had magically appeared in the driveway, and he had an "arrangement" with the owner of a swanky bar? _Arrangement,_ Gemma thought to herself. _Like a drug-related arrangement? What kinds of other arrangements are there?_

A 40 pound gin-and-elderflower cocktail was set on the table in front of her. Murdoc plopped down and watched, pleased with himself, as she took a sip. It even tasted expensive.

"This is really lovely. Thank you."

He smiled crookedly into his pint. "Of course, love."

"How was your day?"

"Long. Made some money, though, so I can afford to muck about a bit." He winked at her and gestured to her drink. She, with her full-time bartending job and often generous tips, could barely afford more than rent, a rip-off cellphone bill, and food.

"You, uh… you haven't yet told me what you do."

She was expecting to be brushed off like last time, but instead he paused for a moment, pondering, eyeing her calculatingly. His voice was low, and a sort of deviousness glimmered in his eye. "Can't tell you. Not here."

His phone beeped from the depths of his jacket pocket. He retrieved it and stared at the screen, scowling so ferociously that she felt herself shrink back a bit across the table from him. "Speaking of work," he growled, "it appears as though I'm needed."

"It… it can't wait? We just got here."

He paused for a few moments to look at the screen again, and glanced apologetically up at her. "Afraid not. There's been a bit of an, er… issue with a client, it seems. Some manky bloke, given us problems before. I'll have to drop you off at the flat, and I'll be back in an hour."

"No." Gemma felt indignant at being left behind- and she truly wanted to know what he was up to. "Take with with you."

Murdoc frowned at her and immediately dismissed the idea. "Not a good idea. Don't want you involved."

"I'll stay in the car. I won't get in your way."

He eyed her dubiously, fingernails tapping on his glass. "I don't think-"

"I'm coming," she asserted.

"Rather bossy little thing, you," he muttered to himself, snickering. "Right. Down your drink, then."

She did as she was told- with her empty belly, it would hit her soon, she knew- and followed him back to the car.

"It's about a half an hour away, so you'll have to amuse yourself."

"That's fine." She buckled up as he started the ignition and ripped down the street again. "Are you going to tell me now?"

Murdoc glanced at her out of the sides of his mismatched eyes. "Take a guess. I'm sure you've something in mind."

"…I'm like seventy percent sure you're a drug dealer."

"Ding ding ding. You would be correct!"

"You didn't really make it hard for me. 'Arrangements?' Were you trying to give yourself away?"

He chuckled. "You don't seem like the type to rat me out."

"What… what kinds of drugs?"

"Oh, everything. Mostly cocaine and the _devil's lettuce,_ " he sneered, looking over briefly to gauge her reaction. "Occasionally harder stuff. Anything you can think of, I've probably sold."

"So you're like… a drug lord."

"…You could say that."

She looked over at him, and he sat smugly as they zoomed along. She was involved with a drug lord. She wasn't sure whether to be a distressed or not, but all she felt was more attracted to him. _The fuck is wrong with you, Gemma?_ It made him more dangerous. Like being with him was a risk- and it was. She was going with him to a drug deal, for fucks's sake. And he was letting her, knowing it was a potential threat to her safety. She liked that he let her do what he want, that he wasn't holding her back like he didn't trust her to make her own decisions. So many of her past flames had done that, and it had made her feel incompetent.

He was just so… suave, in a devilish, offbeat, badboy sort of way. How he dressed, his distinct mannerisms and speech patterns, his good looks, even his name. He was just so different. And how charming he was despite coming from an awful background somehow made him even better.

He glanced over at her, catching her ogling eyes, and teased, "I know I look good, Gems, but must you stare like that? It's rather distracting."

 _Gems._ A nickname. She loved the way he'd said it, and that warmness in her stomach- unlike any other she'd ever had, only elicited by him- rose again.

Alcohol in an empty belly giving her a bit of confidence, she asked, "Why do you like me?"

He frowned and cast her an amused glance. "What kind of question is that?"

"You're just… you're so… _cool._ So much more than I am. _"_

He chuckled at her and reached out to give her upper thigh a quick squeeze, pleased with himself as he watched her fidget, biting her lip. "Few reasons, I s'pose," he said matter-of-factly. "But you just get along well with some people sometimes, and that's what happened, I think."

"What are the other reasons, though?"

"That." He snickered. "You know what you want. We relate. You've got fire in you." His voice dropped a few notes and smoothed into a purr. "And you're incredibly sexy."

He watched her out of the corner of his eye, lips curling up into a smirk as she took in what he'd told her. She grinned broadly, and he winked. She didn't think of herself too highly, but if someone like Murdoc thought she was _sexy,_ even in her old tshirt and boring leggings, well…

They were in a sketchy part of town now, in a suburban area lined with dinky, falling-apart flats and houses. He pulled to the side of the road and put the car into park. He turned to face her rather sternly. "I'm not sure why you would, because I know you're a smart girl, but don't leave the car, right? I shan't be long, 15 minutes max. I'll lock the doors for you. No one should bother you, but if their little brains haven't completely disintegrated by now, a few junkie idiots in this neighbourhood know I've a Vauxhall. If they approach you, honk and I'll be right out."

"Be careful," she said dumbly.

He grinned at her, cocky as ever- _although I suppose you have to be cocky, to be a drug dealer,_ she thought- and slipped out the door and into the house across the street, not even stopping to knock. The car's locks clicked, and suddenly she felt a bit nervous. What was going on? She couldn't peer inside, because the curtains were drawn- and it would probably just be a good idea to keep her head down anyway. She glanced around. No one was outside, thank god. He'd said everything so casually, as he always did, but she got the impression that he was well-known and held a fair amount of notoriety. She felt like she was breaking the rules, and she giggled at her silliness. But truly, she didn't think she was completely grasping the situation. He was a bigshot, a potentially dangerous criminal, but she wasn't exactly sure _how much._

And just minutes later, he was hopping down the steps and had swaggered back to the car. A crooked snicker was plastered to his face, and his eyes were… darker. He looks pleased with himself, but there was a sort of wicked violence in his expression.

She studied him as he got into car. His face- almost healed, bruises shaded yellow- had been untouched, luckily. On the black leather of his jacket, there were spatters of dark liquid. Her eyes were drawn to his hands as he slid the key into the ignition. His knuckles were bruised, broken and bloodied.

Gemma did her best to sound nonchalant. "How'd it go?"

"Oh, very well," he crooned, putting the car in gear. "We had a nice little chat, he and I. I rather enjoyed myself."

She didn't even want to ask. There was something about him, right now, that was sinister. Again, she felt that odd mix of attraction and nervousness. She kept quiet, pensive as he navigated them back to where they'd come from. Beside her was a handsome, ridiculously charming man- who also happened to be a drug lord and, she thought, someone who may very well be capable of killing someone.

 _"Something else"_ was an understatement.


	7. Chapter 7

{Hey guys. Sorry this took so long, I'm in the middle of finals and haven't had too much time to write recently. Thank you for sticking with me this far! I know Gemma is rather a Mary-Sue, but in no way is this meant to be a literary masterpiece- I only literally write it because it relieves stress, lol. Also, I apologize for the few little grammatical errors in last chapter. I was so desperate to publish it and I had so many other things on my mind that I completely missed them.

Also, a few notes for this chapter- this is borderline M, and I did my best to keep it fluffy, but it was rather difficult. It takes a darker turn here in terms of Murdoc's character, as well. I'll change the rating if it gets any friskier. Also, fair warning, Murdoc is kinky! What a surprise. Pretty sure we all saw that one, but just so you know. As usual, reviews/comments always appreciated! Enjoy this chapter :)}

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Kris had of course asked her what they'd done. Gemma had lied. Kris was accepting, but Gemma was sure that not even she would be okay with what had happened two nights ago. To be honest, Gemma wasn't sure if she was okay with it, either.

Right now, though, she felt… deprived of him. Yesterday, the day after he'd taken her on a "date", he'd had to go out of town in the wee hours of the morning. For work. She hadn't asked. He sensed she was perhaps a bit apprehensive of what she'd witnessed, and had turned up the charm to reel her back in a bit, keep her head spinning. After he'd drove them home and they'd ventured into her room to grab a pack of cigarettes, he'd practically attacked her- some adrenaline still kicking around in his system- and had pinned her up against the wall. She was enjoying herself, and she let it happen willingly, but at the same time she'd felt almost a bit afraid- afraid of how how roughly he'd kissed her, how he had to visibly hold himself back, afraid of the unbridled rawness he'd exhibited, how he'd transcended from human to something like an animal. It was like he hadn't been all there. It had been hard to refuse to do anything more than feverishly groping over top of clothing, and he'd been a little surprised at her desire to, simply put, not take off her clothes. Still, though, he'd respected her and left shortly thereafter to "attend a meeting." She hadn't hold him to be careful this time; she was well aware that he could take care of himself.

He was supposed to be at home now- he'd texted her earlier in the day and told her he'd be back by 7. She was walking home from work, and a giddiness rose in her. Slightly worried, too, that he'd have returned with a puffy, bruised face again. But as she neared their flat, she could see his Vauxhall- if it really was his, anyway- wasn't in the driveway. She held her breath as she opened the front door. His shoes weren't on the mat, either. She flung off her heels and called him.

No answer.

She waited a half hour and tried again.

No answer.

He was two hours late. If he had a normal job, she would be concerned. But he was a fucking drug lord, and she was very concerned.

She took her time taking off her makeup and going about her nighttime routine. She changed into her pyjamas, made popcorn, and went downstairs to watch a movie in the living room. She'd wanted to invite Arlo and Kris, but they'd stayed up late the night prior and were sleeping.

Time passed slowly. It was almost 11 now, and her film was halfway done when the front door creaked open. It was too dark to see who had come in.

"Murdoc?" she called timidly.

"Alright, Gems."

He stepped out from the shadows, an arrogant smirk on his face and a briefcase in his hand.

"You're late," she said. "Is everything okay?"

"Better than. The M1 was just blocked up, and once it cleared up I got pulled over for speeding."

"What's in the briefcase?"

He flung his jacket over the stair railing and motioned for her to follow him upstairs into his bedroom. She'd never been in there, and it was eerie, with candles on every surface, bass guitars and amps and tangles of patch cords, a pentagram drawn in chalk on the wall. He set the briefcase down.

"Keep your voice down," he murmured, as if anticipating her reaction. He crouched down and clicked the bag's locks into place. It flung open.

Bricks and bricks and bricks of white powder. She took a second for it to register- cocaine. She'd seen it in small amounts, but never this much. There must have been at least a kilo in there.

She looked at him wordlessly.

"Upping my supply, on top of the key I already have."

She wanted so desperately to be positive. _That's great that you're selling more coke, Murdoc!_

She couldn't. She had too many questions. But firstly, "why are you sharing this with me?

He shrugged and threw her a grin. "Why would I not?"

"I mean, like… I could go and tell everyone I know, and then you'd be busted."

Murdoc drew himself up to his full height took a few steps towards her, tunnel-eyes boring into hers menacingly. His voice came out a husky, dangerous purr. "But you wouldn't do that, would you love?"

She breathlessly shook her head no.

"Good." His demeanour returned to normal, and his shoulders slouched. "Dunno. Just rather proud." He glanced down to the forty-thousand-pounds-worth of hard drugs on the carpet and smirked.

She wanted so badly to be supportive of him, but she was all too familiar with the lifestyle that came with selling narcotics. She's experienced it firsthand- she'd been raised around it, witnessed brutality a child shouldn't have. It was a dangerous lifestyle, and you had to be a very particular brand of person to stick with it. She'd seen it all, she knew how you had to be to stay in the business- and Murdoc was perfect for it. Scarily well-suited. Incredibly charming, a forward-thinker, artful. Perhaps with a penchant for violence- at least, he didn't shy away from it. She hated to think about how he potentially treated his sellers.

He'd locked her in, now. He'd made it very clear that he wanted her around him, that he was serious. _You don't just go around showing your drug stash to people for no reason._

"Gemma?" Murdoc lifted her chin up with a finger, forcing her to peer up at him. He could read her like a book. _Do you just expect me to be fine with this?_

But she wasn't often one to stand in the face of adversity, not when it involved a man she was falling for. _It's great that you're making more money and all, but… it's just… I'm worried. Because it's dangerous for you, and it's dangerous for other people, and I just grew up around this sort of stuff, you know? And I moved here to get away from it, not come back to it._

"Yes!" She forced herself to grin. She desperately wanted to change the subject, and held out her arms. "Everything's good. Come here, I haven't hugged you yet."

He pulled her in; any feelings of worry in her dissolved. All she could focus on was the solid wall of muscle she was being pressed into, strong arms that snaked around her waist, and his familiar scent of stale cigarettes. Murdoc had grown to be comforting to her, his presence the past few days consistent among her scary new life in a big city. She tried her hardest not to latch on to him. Still, in a flat with friendly roommates, she felt scared. She felt alone. And he was familiar, but also new and exciting. She'd always had a fondness for British accents, and had hoped she'd be able to click with someone here, but she'd never have thought it would have been someone quite like him.

He snorted, amused, as he tried to pull away and it took her a few moments to let go. Her breath hitched in her throat as he leaned down, without hesitation, and kissed her. She rested an arm around his neck, and a hand drifted to his cheek; his arms tightened around her, and he dug his nails lightly into the flesh and bone of her hips. He'd backed her up against the wall now, every inch of his body pressing into hers, his hands starting to wander. She never felt pretty when she wasn't wearing makeup, but he didn't seem to care. She forgot to breathe every time he came near her, and all she could focus on was his rough lips on hers, the feel of his hair brushing up against her forehead, the stubble on his chin prickling against her face, how he tasted of tobacco and some sort of alcohol, how warm and solid he was through his sweater. He knotted a fist in her hair and the other hand moved to her breast. She gasped and found herself gulping for air.

"Do you have to remind yourself to breathe?" He chuckled in a velvety, amused tone as he moved to kiss her jaw and onto her neck.

Before she could react, he'd picked her up like she was nothing and had dropped her on the bed and positioned himself on top of her, resuming where he'd left off; he trailed down her collar bones and briefly stopped at her chest- would she stop him here, he wondered?

She waited expectantly. No, she would not.

A smirk twisted his features as he pulled the neck of her tanktop down to expose her bare flesh, and she gasped again as he feathered his tongue against her skin. She raised her arms and let him peel off her shirt; he feverishly threw off his sweater and trailed kisses back up to her lips. He paused briefly, looking down at her as he unthinkingly undid his belt, his eyes darker, carnal. She pursed her lips in hesitancy, and he seemed to realize what he was doing. Did she want to do this?

There was the smallest trace of doubt in her mind, but she stared at the man straddling her, hands hovering uncertainly around his belt buckle, raven-black mop of hair falling perfectly over his brow, his eyes calculating, waiting for her to make a move. She stared at his body- toned, lean muscle. A dark smattering of hair trailed down his chest and down his stomach. He sniggered as he watched her take him in.

There may have been the smallest trace of doubt in her mind earlier- but there wasn't anymore.

She reached up to undo his buckle, and he kicked his jeans off.

A gravelly chuckle rose in his throat and he forcefully grabbed her hands to pin them up above her head. Her head spun as he kissed her hard, like he had the night he'd been high on adrenaline, the night he'd ruined his knuckles. She tried to keep up with him, but she couldn't; it was like he was gone.

"Murdoc?" She murmured, doing her best to concentrate on speaking and not on the lips that were grazing down her neck.

He raised himself to look at her, a wickedness in his face; his mouth curled up into a crooked, tooth-baring grin. "Yes, Gems?"

"I, ah… could you close to door?"

He glanced behind himself, and leapt up in his boxer briefs and shut it loudly; Gemma winced on the bed. "You might wake Arlo and Kris up."

Before she could say anything, he'd grabbed a fistful of her hair, yanked her head back, and bit down on her exposed neck. She yelped out.

"You might too, love," he purred.


	8. Chapter 8

{Hey guys, sorry this has been so slow in the making. I've had busy times, but this chapter is done- and we meet the band here very briefly :) Lots will happen in the next chapter, too. Stay tuned. As usual, comments/critiques/reviews always appreciated! I would love some more feedback, let me know how you guys like it and all that.}

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No morning sun filtered through the windows, like in her room- he'd closed the blinds. It was dark, but she could make out the figure beside her, on his stomach, his face pressed into a pillow. It took a few moments to register, in her dopey, bleary state, that… they'd slept together last night. She lifted up the covers to see if she was still wearing anything- she wasn't. Her cheeks flushed a bit, and she looked over to Murdoc beside her. His hair was messy, tangled- had she done that?- and there were… darker patches on his neck. _Shit._ Yes, she'd done that. She remembered. She wished she could see his back, too. There was a bit of blood under one of her fingernails.

Carefully pushing the covers aside, she got out of bed and went to check her own body in the full-length mirror beside his dresser. She cursed under her breath; she'd never seen herself so… _bruised._ A string of hickeys and bite marks trailed down her neck and onto her breasts. There were patches of broken blood vessels and indents where he'd grabbed her and dug his nails into her flesh. Her hair looked like a bird's nest. She looked a bit of a mess- but it was also easily the best sex she'd ever had. Holy shit, he was _good._

"You're quite a sight," purred a gravelly voice from the bed.

She felt the urge to cover her bare chest as she spun around to look at him, caught off guard. He had propped himself up on an elbow and was gazing at her intently. His morning voice was groggy, sexy, as he looked her up and down. "You look like a gal who's had a good night."

"I did." She got back into bed with him and pulled up the covers, and said a bit shyly, "You're amazing."

There was an arrogance on his face, and he grinned, his tongue between his crooked teeth; she was surprised he didn't say " _I know._ " She unthinkingly reached over and straightened out a tuft of hair in his fringe, and he didn't do so much as bat an eye. A distance had been closed between them- she didn't feel like nearly as awkward or controlled around him anymore. Closer to him, now, she could see how bruised and battered his skin was. "I'm sorry."

"For what, love?"

"For these." She traced her fingers over the budding purple patches under his flesh.

He didn't bother to look, like he knew, and stretched lazily. "No need to be sorry. It's all part of the fun, innit?"

Gemma cocked an eyebrow, meeting his mismatched gaze full on, something she often wasn't able to do. "We should do that again sometime."

He flashed a dark, crooked grin, and she slipped out of bed before he could grab her.

"I'm gonna change. I'll meet you downstairs."

He said nothing, smirking, as she gathered her clothes from last night and cautiously darted out of his room and into hers. It felt odd, not doing the walk of shame afterwards, instead still in her own house, her bedroom just down the hall. It was nice, comfortable. She threw on a pair of pyjamas, dragged a brush through her incredibly tangled hair, washed up, and went downstairs.

Kris was waiting for her, leaning against the kitchen counter expectantly, a cup of coffee in hand, and eyebrow cocked. "Did you have a good night?"

Gemma hesitated. "Er… yes."

"I know. Because you guys were _so loud. So loud._ I had to put in ear plugs. Jesus Christ, Gemma. I hope it was fantastic, because you guys kept us up for like 2 hours."

There was a dark snicker and padding footsteps down the stairs; Murdoc strode into sight, boldly wearing boxer briefs are nothing else. He'd done this on purpose, Gemma knew. She blushed as Kris took him in, the brunette agape at the nasty-looking marks on his body. The bruises on his arms had worn off, but the damage she'd caused him last night looked almost worse.

"It was mind- _blowing,_ " he assured Kris, walking over to put an arm round Gemma. "I do apologize for keeping you up, but this one's a little minx, and it was hard to-"

"That's enough." Kris stared at him, wide-eyed- he'd said maybe 15 words to her since he'd moved in, and now he was going on about sex he'd had with her other roommate. She wasn't sure how to reply. He turned around briefly to pour himself a mug of coffee, and the two girls looked on in alarm- long, red lines ran down his back, angry and raw. Gemma had to cast her eyes to the ground as Kris' expression grew even more appalled. She looked legitimately horrified. "Jesus, Murdoc, did you get mauled by a bear?"

He looked over his shoulder, cocky. "Like I said, Kris. _Mind-blowing."_

"They must be pretty bad if you have your hair down." Kris sounded slightly amused now, looking at Gemma.

"What must be bad?"

"Don't act all innocent. You can't after I basically heard what you guys did yesterday. Is your neck purple?"

"…You _heard?"_

"Yes, I heard. You must be sore."

Gemma blushed. One thing she usually liked about Kris- but not right now- was that she was so blunt. To further illustrate what Kris had said, Murdoc reached down and pinched her arse. Gemma tried to stifle a gasp; she _was_ sore. She'd forgotten- she probably had angry red handmarks where his palm had come into contact with her skin. Murdoc looked down at her with dark eyes, like he could do it all again at that instant.

"Have you done anything for breakfast?" Gemma asked Kris, trying to change the subject.

"No," came the somewhat snarky reply. "I gotta be outta here soon. You guys are on your own. Have fun." And she'd stomped out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"I feel kinda bad," Gemma murmured to the tall man beside her.

"Don't." He smirked into his coffee and squeezed her hip lightly. "I'll be moving out soon anyway, so loud sex here won't be a problem."

"What?" Her heart dropped. "Why? Where?"

"I can afford a much nicer place with the cash I'm making, and I need a space for my band to practice in."

Band? What? He was just full of surprises- that would explain the equipment in his room. "I didn't know you had a band. You play bass?"

"I do. We have a meeting today, actually. Fancy coming along?"

"I work till 8."

"We're getting together at 6. I'll text you the address and pay for your cab there, if you'd like, but I don't think it's far."

"O-Okay. You want me to be there?"

"Not at all, Gemma." He looked down at her quizzically, a smile etched onto his thin lips, frowning slightly. "Christ, of course I do. Wouldn't've asked."

"Sorry. No, I'll come." She just couldn't get over the fact that he _wanted to be around her._ Her, of all people. She smiled as she looked up at him and familiar butterflies rose in her stomach. "I have to get ready for work, but I'll see you tonight once I'm off. Have a good day." She rose on her tiptoes to kiss him, and he leaned down into her; she had to pull away out of his firm grasp, and he chuckled as she forced herself out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

"See you soon, love."

It had been easy enough to find- she'd walked from work, and it had only taken 15 minutes. She timidly opened the door- this _was_ the place he'd mentioned, but it looked a bit sketchy. It opened to a steep stairwell, and she walked down. Immediately she heard muffled sound, a melodic voice. At the bottom, she cautiously peered inside- it was a recording studio. A thin, dark-haired, pointy-featured woman paused her guitar-strumming, caught off guard. A thin, handsome guy with blue hair and- were his eyes black?- stared at her blankly. A huge, gentle-looking man on drums slowed down his beat until it stopped, and Murdoc, although he'd clearly watched her walk in, played a few impressive notes on his bass guitar, long fingers deftly moving along the fretboard.

"Who're you?" asked the woman, a biting edge to your voice. "You shouldn't be here."

"This is Gemma." Murdoc gathered the cord for his bass and ambled over to her to stand beside her arrogantly, as if to show her off. "She'll be joining us for the rest of the practice."

"Good thing we're almost done, then," the woman muttered, glaring at Gemma from over the rims of her sunglasses.

Murdoc looked at his guitarist as if he was about to tear her to shreds but quickly regained his composure. "This lovely bird," he sneered, "is Paula." He gestured to the tall blue-haired man who hovered over the microphone stand. "That's 2D. And in the back is Russel."

"Are you 'ow Murdoc's neck came to be so purple?" enquired 2D spacily. His speaking voice was much higher than when he sung. He had a thick Cockney accent, and his two front teeth were missing. Gemma's cheeks burned.

"Shut it, faceache," Murdoc growled. The blue-haired man visibly recoiled, as if expecting a blow.

"I'm just gonna go," Paula scoffed, turning off her amp and packing away her guitar. "We can't have anyone _outside_ the band sitting in on our practices."

"Christ, don't be so paranoid," Murdoc spat back, "Gems isn't gonna steal anything."

"I won't," Gemma assured her. "I'm not very musical."

Paula shook her head and pushed past the two, close to colliding with Gemma's shoulder on the way out. Murdoc bared his teeth.

"It's all good," Russel told her from behind his drumkit. "Good guitarist, but, uh… bit of an acquired taste.

"We 'ad a good practice, though," 2D said.

Murdoc grumbled and took off his bass. "Should've counted on Paula to be a twat."

"Oi, be nice." 2D spoke up, frowning as he wrapped up the cords for his microphone. "She's 'aving a rough time of it right now."

" _Is_ she? Well you can fucking tell her that-"

"I'm not gonna stick around and listen to you two argue about shit," Russel interrupted and rose from his drums to mosey over, annoyance in his smooth voice. Gemma realized how huge he was and couldn't help feel intimidated despite his gentle demeanour. "Keep Muds in line, alright?" he murmured to her as he left the studio, heavy footsteps up the stairs.

"Let's go out for dinner." Gemma gently tugged on the sleeve of Murdoc's leather jacket, trying to distract him from his staring match with 2D. "I'll pay. C'mon."

There was a few seconds pause, and he growled, "Alright." He took one last lunge at 2D, chuckled darkly as the blue-haired man leapt backwards, stumbling over an amp. Murdoc collected his gear and led Gemma up the stairs out of the studio. Gemma waved goodbye to 2D, but he just stared back blankly.

"Shame that didn't pan out. Would have preferred you actually _heard_ something." Murdoc opened the trunk of his Vauxhall and dumped his stuff in, sneering. "Great bunch of musicians, just incredibly trying at times. Most times, actually."

"Russel seems very nice. So does 2D, just a bit… different."

The two got in the car and the dark-haired man snickered as he revved the engine. "Different is certainly a way to put it, yes. Where are we going?"

"The place near ours." Gemma paused, feeling the need to defend 2D, who seemed so sweet. "But lovely, too! I like him."

"…He and Paula make an _interesting_ pair, that's for certain."

"They're… together?"

"Oh, yes."

"But… she's so…"

" _Awful?_ " Murdoc sneered as they flew down the street, clearly taking joy in berating his fellow bandmate. " _Twat-like?_ A _minger?_ Very much so. I tolerate her, but barely."

"And 2D seems so innocent."

"Not sure about innocent. I did choose him as my frontman because I knew the girls would go crazy for his _boyish charm._ " Murdoc spat the last two words, a sneer curling his upper lip. "And they do. He may be pretty, but he's no Einstein. Not like me. Bit of a muppet, that one."

 _Einstein?_ She looked over at him, reclining easily in his seat, one hand on the stick shift, the contour of his wonky, broken-too-many-times nose, that ill-mannered smirk that was almost permanently etched into his expression. He was smart, she'd give him that. He was very intelligent- maybe more than she knew. She'd refrain from teasing him this time. She tried to stifle a grin, but he noticed, and questioned playfully, "wot?"

"You're just really cute."

" _Cute,"_ he said. "I haven't heard that one before. I truly don't think that 'cute' is a good descriptor for _me."_

"What is, then?"

He ran a tongue over his lips and glanced at her deviously out of the corner of those mismatched eyes. "Edgy, sexy, dangerous."

"You are all of those things," Gemma told him, "and more."

"And _more?"_ His voice deepened into a purr. "Like _what_ more?"

"I am not dirty-talking you now. If you're good maybe we can do this later."

Murdoc looked over at her as he put the car into park, mock sadness on his face, pouting his lower lip. "But I'm always good."

"I don't know about always. Don't be so loud or hit me so hard tonight."

A puzzled expression bent his features. "I was under the impressed that you were enjoying both of those things. Also, are you saying we're going to shag later?"

"Yes, I am," Gemma told him as they got out and walked towards the pub. "And I did enjoy it, but our roommates will have our heads if it happens again."

"More incentive to get a place of my own, I s'pose."

"Where will you be moving?"

"Have my eye on a place round Shoreditch. Lovely loft with exposed brick and vaulted ceilings."

"Oh. That's not too far…"

"And of course come 'round whenever you like. I'll have a lot of space."

The two sat down at a table- it was a dingy little place, but it was fine- and eyed the drink menu. Gemma lightly punched Murdoc on the arm and teased, "do you know anyone here, too? Can you get us free stuff?"

"Not here, no," he chuckled. "Don't have anything going on for work, though, I promise."

"So is this a date?" She questioned boldly.

He paused for a moment, watching her calculatedly. "If you want it to be."

"I really like you, Murdoc." He said nothing, and she blushed. "I'm sorry if I've come off too strong, I just-"

"No, not at all," he murmured, staring at her intently. "Odd."

"Odd? How? Why?"

He shook his head and cast his gaze down, avoiding her question. "Yes, it can be a date."

"Good." She grinned at him, and tried to change the subject- he seemed a bit uncomfortable. "So… how did you meet your bandmates?"

He returned to his normal self and cocked an eyebrow at her, drawling, "That's a very large question."

"We have lots of time."

"Alright. Who would you like me to start with?"

"2D."

"Oh, that's quite a long story." Murdoc chuckled and tapped his nails on the table. "And not a pleasant one, either."

"I have all night."

"Right." He cleared his throat and started a bit hesitantly. "There's really no nice way of telling it, yeah? This was a while ago. But me and my mates crashed a car through the window of place called Uncle Norm's Organ Emporium. The plan was to snatch some gear and speed off. It would've worked, if I hadn't nearly run over that blue-haired idiot."

Gemma paused- _did I hear that correctly?_ "Wait. I knew you had questionable morals," she joked, "but… with a _car?_ Why did that seem like a good idea?"

"Who said it seemed like a good idea? Didn't mean to _hurt_ anyone. Just happened. Fractured one of his eyeballs. He got put into a coma and I was made to care for him 10 hours a week. Also given 30,000 hours of community service but I've not been showing up and they've let it slide. Anyway, one day I was mucking about in a Tesco parking lot and sent him through my front windshield. And it woke him up from the coma. He stood up, and at that moment I knew I needed him for the band- spiky blue hair, black eyes and all."

Gemma looked at him and considered all this. He didn't seem to have any remorse. "Christ, Murdoc. You don't regret anything?"

He reclined in his chair and shrugged, a devilish grin lighting up his features. "No. Everything happens for a reason, and now I have my vocalist."

 _This man is a psycopath,_ she thought to herself. But he was gorgeous and treated her well- just looking at him right now in his black leather jacket gave her butterflies. "What about Russel?"

"You've been into Big Rick Black's Record Shack?"

"In Soho? Yeah."

"He used to work there. I kidnapped him."

"You _kidnapped_ him? What? How? He's so… big."

"Chloroform, love. I made him listen to some demos and ideas I had lying around, and he liked them and stuck around."

"And Paula?"

"She answered an ad I'd put out in the papers for a guitarist."

 _Something normal, at least._ To contemplate all of this made her stomach twist- he was capable of acts far more sinister that she'd previously thought, was more damaged than she'd thought. She watched him watch her from across the table. He eyed her calculatingly, long nails still tapping, waiting for a response.

She didn't really have one, to be honest- she was sort of dumbstruck. She shrugged and said "Okay."

Murdoc leaned back in his chair and shot her a sly, incredulous look. "'Okay?' That's it?"

"Long as you don't try to kidnap _me_ ," she said, teasing. _But am I, really?_

The gorgeous, dark man across the table from her looked fully capable of being able to pull off an abduction, or run someone over with a car. He snickered at her. "Not that I'd need to, anyway- I have you wrapped around my little finger, don't I?"

"Is it not the other way around?" She pulled down the neck of her shirt so that her chest bulged out the top and waited for his reaction. "I mean…"

He ogled for a second, a raunchy look in his two-toned eyes, and composed himself. He countered back with that crooked grin he knew she found so entrancing and lowered his voice to a purr. "Shall we head back to ours, then? That t-shirt would look much better on the floor."

"Don't you do this now," she complained, feeling her body squirm. "We haven't even gotten drinks yet."

"And?" He look down at her chest and motioned to the door, smiling devilishly. "I've got some hard stuff at home. Can order pizza or something… afterwards."

"Afterwards..?"

Murdoc rose from his seat fluidly and brushed away a stand of her hair, fingers lingering on her neck. He stepped behind her and bent down, hands on her shoulders, and purred in her ear, "after I fuck you from here till Sunday, Gemma."

She felt his hands tighten around her, and her breath hitched as they gently snaked around her neck. She wondered if people were staring. Familiar warmth bubbled in her stomach, but just like that, he stopped and stood as if nothing had happened, hands in pockets. She looked back at him over her shoulder, bewildered.

He pointed a thumb towards the door. "Let's go, love."

She got up in a trance-like state and followed him outside. She had to hand it to him- he always knew how to get what he wanted. As they neared the car, he slipped over and pressed her against the brick wall, his features obscured in the dark. He towered over her, body pressed against hers; even if she wanted to, she had nowhere to go, but something about him told her that he wasn't safe. She could only make out the dangerous glint of his eyes. His nails scraped down her collarbone and into her shirt, breaking skin. She gasped into his mouth.

Before her spellbound brain could register it, he'd slithered away and now stood leaning against the hood of his Vauxhall, arms crossed, his chuckle wafting through the air. "I'm paying for dinner, too."


	9. Chapter 9

[Hey guys, sorry this took such a long time. It's been crazy busy, but I hope you all enjoy this chapter; it's much lighter than the chapters passed. Leave me a review and let me know what you think xx]

* * *

They'd crashed in her room last night, and she woke up in familiarity, a cozy warmth streaming through her curtains. She yawned and tensed and untensed her limbs, stretching leisurely-

until she caught sight of her alarm clock. 11:27. She had to be at work in just over a half hour.

 _Shit shit shit._

Gemma sprung up, threw on her work clothes, swiped some mascara on, and paused as Murdoc stirred in his sleep and grumbled, jagged, snuffly air flowing through his broken nostrils. She quietly stepped over to plant a quick kiss on his cheek, and stepped on something cold and hard. His phone. It must have fallen out of his pocket last night as he'd hurried to take his clothes off. She bent to pick it up and put it on the side table where it was safe. The screen lit up in her fingers. A text. It was from… someone in his contacts named K? No big deal. A new text, also from K, flashed before her eyes on the screen.

 _"Let me know, luv! xx"_

Her stomach churned. Involuntarily her eyes darted to the first text.

 _"Meet up tonight? xx"_

Oh, no. No no no. Who was K? What was happening? She hadn't _meant_ to read them, it had just happened. Maybe this K was harmless? Maybe they were friends?

No. Her brain automatically, unthinkingly ruled that out. Also, "luv?" All of the "x's?" No. In relationships she tried hard, so hard, not to be needy and demanding and overwhelming, but her fucked-up childhood and her lack of supports and parental presence had set her up for a life of emotional struggle. And she knew, but it was so hard. And he wasn't even doing anything wrong, either. They hadn't known each other long at all, they weren't "dating", they didn't have a label. They hadn't spoken about exclusivity. But she wanted him to herself. She did not want to share.

Her stomach still knotting, she looked down at the handsome, dark man soundly asleep in her bed, shakily set his phone down, and practically flew out of the flat.

The day passed slowly, like tar drying in the sun. She couldn't concentrate, she'd messed up a few drink orders. Her regulars asked if she was ok. During her break, she forced herself not to reply to a cheeky text about last night Murdoc had sent her. The remaining 4 hours of work dragged by, and afterwards she tried not to rush home- if not out and about doing drug-related business, Murdoc would probably be there waiting for her. Or with K, whoever the fuck that was.

His car wasn't in the front, but a heavy feeling settled in her stomach nonetheless. She didn't want to deal with this. She dumped her bag on the floor of the flat as she went in and collapsed on the sofa.

"How was work?" Kris called from the kitchen.

"Fine," Gemma replied, masking her voice. "It was good. I'm glad to be home. How was yours?"

"Long." Her roommate appeared and handed her a mug of tea. "Sorry I was so crabby a couple mornings ago. A lot of work stress. But I think it's great that you guys are a thing! I was kind of wary of him at first but you guys seem to really get along."

Gemma forced a smile. "Thanks, Kris. We do. But we're not a thing."

"Not yet." Kris punched Gemma on the arm lightly, teasing. "You should be."

 _I'd like to be, but who's K?_

 _"_ But," the brunette cut into her thoughts, "you should tell me what the trouble is. Something's bothering you, I can tell."

 _Shit._ That girl could read her like a book. Gemma sighed; well meaning as she was, Kris would keep persisting. She might as well tell her. "I just… I think he might be seeing other people, and I'm just kinda… jealous."

"Mmmmmm." Kris pondered this for a few moments. "But if you guys haven't spoken about your relationship or anything, then-"

"I know, I know. I'm going to talk to him about it. I'm not sure what he'll say."

Just as Gemma was about to speak, the front door opened. "Is Arlo home?" she whispered. Kris nodded.

 _Shit._

The two of them listened as distinctive, cocky footsteps grew louder, and watched as Murdoc, in tight black jeans, a maroon tshirt and his favourite leather jacket, strode into view. Even though she was upset, Gemma's heart skipped a beat. He was too gorgeous. He stopped in front of them and surveyed them briefly, nodding a greeting at Kris. He cast his gaze over to the purple-haired girl beside her, who sat sipping her tea nervously.

"Gems," he said through one of those mesmerizing grins, voice deep and husky.

"Hey, Murdoc," she replied, a feeling of dread in her stomach.

He motioned his head towards the stairs, and she got up to follow him. She glanced back at Kris, who nodded encouragingly.

"How was your day?" She asked him in his bedroom. His mood seemed to change suddenly, and he took off his jacket and dropped it to the floor. Gemma wasn't surprised to see the beginnings of purple marks blossoming under his skin, crescents where someone had dug their nails into his flesh. His back towards her, he snatched a cigarette from his dresser, lit it, and inhaled deeply.

She stepped towards him and reached up to put a hand on his bony shoulder. "I'm sorry."

He snorted, smoke trailing from his nostrils. "Made some money today, anyway."

How, she wondered? How had someone done this to him? She'd never seen him throw any punches, but she knew he was strong, he could take care of himself. She'd seen it the evening he'd had to "take care of some business" as it were, how his eyes had held some sort of violence, how adrenaline had kicked into his system. But now wasn't the time to ask about that…

Murdoc looked down at her from over his shoulder. "You didn't answer my text this afternoon."

"Sorry, I was just really busy with work." That was a lie. "I didn't really get much of a break."

He didn't say anything and took another drag of his cigarette. She tried to ignore the knots in her stomach, and asked, "What are you doing tonight?"

"Nothing." Murdoc turned around to face her and blew smoke over her head. "But I have to leave around 12."

 _Why? What are you going to do?_ "Where are you going?"

"'Round the city. For work."

Whether he was lying or not, she felt suspicious. She couldn't keep pretending that she wasn't upset.

She took a deep breath. "Can I ask you something?"

Curiosity sparked in his eyes. "Of course, love."

"Who's… K?"

He stopped mid-drag and looked down at her, frowning slightly. She felt herself tense up. _Fuck. I shouldn't have asked, this was a bad idea-_

His tone was a mix of quizzical and apprehensive. "Why do you ask?"

"I just- I-" she sighed, exasperated, and tripped over her words. "I almost stepped on your phone this morning and I bent to pick it up to put it on the table and I didn't mean to read them, the texts, but it lit up in my hands and I couldn't-"

He chuckled, cutting her off. "She's someone I see occasionally."

A lump formed in her throat. "Oh," she said, looking down at her feet. _Fuck. I was right._

"May I ask why you're wondering?"

She was forced to look at him as his finger pushed up underneath her chin. She felt silly making eye contact with him, stupid for asking, and something she couldn't pin down- not as dramatic as heartbreak, but…

Once again, she couldn't pin down the words. "I just… I… really like you."

Murdoc was clearly amused. "Are you jealous, Gems?"

That was a rhetorical question, she knew. "I think you're really great and I know we haven't talked about labels, or what we are or anything, but…" she trailed off as butterflies rose in her stomach again.

"But?"

"I just… I don't want to share you."

He paused for a moment, thinking as he ground out his half-done cigarette on the heel of his shoe. A smirk curled his upper lip, and his sharp, tobacco-stained teeth poked through. "And why is that?"

"…What do you mean by you see her 'occasionally?'"

Murdoc narrowed his eyes, not liking that she was avoiding his questions. "Used to see her more before you came along. Haven't seen her since."

 _I'm just a toy for him. Great._ "Oh, so I've taken her place. I see."

"You've not taken her place. She didn't even have a place."

"So why are you spending time with me, then?"

"Christ, woman," Murdoc complained, half teasing, half losing patience. "Do I need a reason?"

"No, but-"

"What are you getting at, hm?"

"I just think we should be a _thing,_ " she managed to spit out. Immediately, her freckled cheeks started burning.

Thick eyebrows shot up underneath his mop of hair and his nails stopped mid-tap on the dresser. "A _thing,_ " he repeated, husky voice a few notes higher. "Please elaborate."

"Like…" Gemma fought to keep her trembling voice steady. "I think I should be your girlfriend."

A few moments passed before he sort of un-froze and seemed to comprehend what she'd said. His usually cool voice, she could tell, was struggling not to sound at least vaguely surprised. "Do you. May I ask why?"

"I just think you're great and I think we could be good together. Just you and me."

Murdoc broke into a little chuckle, and not the deep, velvety tone he usually put on. This was a bit of amusement. Otherwise unreadable. "Should this not be the other way 'round, Gems?"

 _Wait… did he mean…_ "What?"

He looked at her teasingly and threw her a wink. "Can't say I've ever been formally asked out by a _girl_ before… Or ever, really…"

 _Holy shit._ Gemma held her breath. _Is he saying…?_ She studied the tall man in front of her, now rocked back on his heels with his wiry arms crossed. Cocky. _He's toying with you,_ something told her. _Someone like him, with someone like you?_ But he stood there, waiting. A smear of arrogance twisted his features, but she couldn't detect any malice…

"Go on, then," she murmured.

"Nah."

No less than a millisecond after that single word entered her ears did her heart drop. _Of course. What was I thinking?_ She shuffled backwards; she'd never felt so embarrassed in her life. "I'm sorry I asked. I-"

"Wot?" Murdoc reached out to grab her shoulder as upset set in and she began to turn away. "No. What're you doing?"

It was hard to keep her words from falling apart. "I'm sorry. I don't know what I was thinking-"

"No, Gemma," he said a bit gruffly. He pressed his fingers to the side of her cheek to force her to face him. "Silly girl. I haven't rejected you."

"…What do you mean?"

He sighed both fondly and exasperatedly. "Wasn't going to ask you cos I already know your answer."

"Wait. You actually want to?"

"If I didn't think you were worth my time, I wouldn't stick around."

"I guess I… I mean, I'm glad I asked but I guess I didn't really see you as one for actual relationships. Part of me sort of thought you'd say no."

He shrugged and shot her that crooked grin as she stepped in towards him and breathed his comforting, familiar scent. "Often not. But this is fine."

She stood there awkwardly, a mix of embarrassed and relieved, not sure whether to move closer or stand as he looked down at her, still amused. "Didn't expect to see you so _sad,_ though," he teased. "You must really want me, eh, Gems?"

 _Cocky as ever._ She put a hand on his chest and pushed him away playfully. "Don't flatter yourself. You must want _me."_

He reached for her waist and pulled her in, and she felt him grin into her shoulder as she flung her arms around him for a hug. "Mm. You're a lucky bird, love," he purred.

 _I know,_ she wanted to say- but his ego didn't need feeding any more, and so she smiled and squeezed him tighter. _Holy shit, I know._


	10. Chapter 10

Hey guys! I apologize for the months-long gap between chapters, but here is the next one! Just a warning that I did have to change the rating to M due to a sex scene later in this chapter- not familiar with writing them at all, but I did my best to keep it from being cheesy and overdone. Also, fair warning that it's pretty kinky (i.e brief asphyxiation, everything I've been hinting at in previous chapters.) This a long chapter but I hope you enjoy! Let me know how I did :)

* * *

The musky, stale smell of his room was a different thing to wake up to. His sheets- well, she wasn't sure how long his sheets had gone unwashed for, and even they managed to smell like alcohol and cigarettes- like him.

She stretched and glanced around blearily. Murdoc stood outside on the terrace, sliding door open, surveying the gray world in front of him in nothing but his boxer briefs. His back was nearly shredded- her doing. She got up, tugged on a sweater of his she'd found on the floor, and padded over to him. He heard her before she'd even stepped onto the balcony, and turned to glance at her out of the corner of his eyes. Smoke drifted from between his lips as he spoke. "Ah, there she is. You slept well, I trust?"

"Yeah. What time is it?"

"Just past 12, I reckon."

"Damn." She leaned into him and yawned just then realizing that it wasn't tobacco he was smoking, but weed. Perhaps why he seemed a bit more mellow this morning, his voice more drawling. "How did you sleep?"

He snickered and turned to face her. "Quite well, considering how battered I am."

"Holy shit," she breathed. She'd drawn blood not only on his back, but his front, too; there were sets of tooth marks where she'd bitten just a bit too hard. "Holy fuck, Murdoc, I'm so sorry, I don't remember-"

"No, don't apologize, love." He snaked an arm around her waist lazily. "Wouldn't've kept going if I didn't like it. We were rather drunk, didn't feel much. And if you're apologizing for this, well," he brushed her hair behind her ears, "I should apologize for what I've done to your neck." He shot her a wicked grin. "Looks as though I've assaulted you."

Murdoc looked on in amusement as she went to check in his mirror. A few finger marks. Bruises, light but still noticeable. She remembered him wrapping his hands around her neck, yet she'd felt nothing.

"Perhaps keep your hair down today," he suggested, opening an arm so that she could snuggle back into him.

Gemma pressed against him and planted a kiss on his shoulder. "Maybe I won't. I am yours now, aren't I?"

"Indeed you are." He ran his nails gently over the subtle marks on her skin. "Although," he mumbled through the spliff between his lips, smirking, "I'm not sure strangle marks are the best way to proclaim that." He pulled down the neck of the sweater she wore and examined the sets of toothmarks on her breasts- she hoped to god no passers-by on the street were looking up.

"You're too much fun," he purred into her ear. The combination of his normal scent and the weed was intoxicating; he leaned down to kiss her, and she hungrily breathed in the smoke he exhaled as his lips moved against hers. She gently took a handful of his hair and pulled him in closer.

" _Get a room,_ " yelled some dick from the sidewalk below.

Like lightning, Murdoc spun around and looked as though he was about to jump over the railing and accost the guy, snarling, "Mind your own fucking business. Christ. Fucking tosser!"

In an attempt to distract him, Gemma snatched the spliff from his fingers and booked it downstairs; she slid on the linoleum past Kris and Arlo, who were standing in the kitchen having tea, and took refuge in the back beside the fridge. Murdoc came practically flying down the stairs and made a beeline for Gemma, looking like a cat hunting a mouse; he cornered her and she giggled as he pinched her sides playfully and swiped his joint back.

"Mornin," interjected Arlo. Murdoc nodded briefly at them over his shoulder, smoke trailing from his nostrils, watching his roommate take in the marks on his back. Kris knew better and averted her eyes.

"Fuckin' 'ell, mate." Arlo visibly recoiled. "Wow. Well, ah… you two had fun last night."

"Very much," Murdoc said. For whatever reason, he seemed to enjoy the reactions of others regarding his sexual escapades- Gemma was just embarrassed. She fussed with her hair, trying to cover her neck.

"Like… doesn't that hurt?" Kris frowned at the bitemarks on his chest as he turned around to flick the butt of his spliff into the sink.

"Of course it hurts," he drawled as he meandered to the counter to pour himself a coffee and Bailey's. Arlo and Kris moved back a bit, giving him more room as though he were a wild animal, and snigger rose in his throat. Arlo eyed the tattoo of an inverted cross on his roommate's sinewy upper arm and shot Kris a concerned look. Gemma stood awkwardly in the corner, embarrassment burning her freckled cheeks, feeling naked in Murdoc's sweater; she watched and waited for him to return, and she felt relief when he draped a hand around her waist. Kris caught her eye briefly, and Gemma could tell she had a million questions- namely regarding what they'd spoken of last night.

"Also," Arlo grumbled, setting his mug down rather sternly, "'ave you forgotten we've got a no smoking rule in the 'ouse? Especially with spliffs. I 'ave an interview for another job today, I can't be smelling of weed."

"Right, sorry." Murdoc shrugged. Gemma liked how pot made him; a little smirk constantly adorned his face, his speech more slurred, his tired eyes a bit more red- he was quite cute.

"Right…" Kris was trying to find a way to bring it up. She looked at them uneasily, focussing a bit too long on how Gemma had practically joined herself to his hip. "Do you lot have any plans for the day, or…?"

Gemma looked up at Murdoc, who shrugged and hummed to himself. "Not really. Do have band practice in an hour, but-"

Kris obviously didn't give a shit- she was just trying to find out the details. She just wanted to _know._ "So are you-"

Arlo took the words out of her mouth. "Are you guys, like, dating now?" He studied the two of them; they were as close as they'd normally be, but their mannerisms were just… different. Gemma especially. Usually there was some distance between she and him when his arm was around her, but not today.

Gemma wanted _Murdoc_ to answer. She looked up at him expectantly; after a few moments of waiting for her to say something, he seemed a bit puzzled. "…Did we not agree on that, or…?"

That was all she needed. "Yeah, we are," she told the two across from them. Arlo's thick brows shot up, and Kris looked vaguely pleased.

"You…" Arlo uttered, pointing a finger at Gemma, "wiv' him?"

Murdoc drew himself up to his full height- although his thin frame didn't even come close to Arlo's burly 6'3- and lowered his gravelly voice to a growl. "Is there something wrong, mate?"

Even though Murdoc was only 5'11 and built like a rail, Arlo wasn't sure he'd want to go up against the guy- the massive scar that ran down his face and his bruised knuckles surely weren't a good sign. "Not at all," Arlo said in his baritone cockney, trying to diffuse tension. "I just, ah… you know, it just moved very quickly wiv you two, so…"

Murdoc clearly wasn't buying it, but settled down as Gemma pressed him back into her.

"She's a catch, that one," Kris told Murdoc, who had finished his coffee and just topped off his mug with Bailey's. "You hurt her or do something stupid and I'll be after you."

He snickered into his alcohol at the tiny brunette who'd just threatened him. "It's fine. Pretty sure this one'd beat you to it." He reached down to pinch her arse, and chuckled when she jumped. "Feisty little bird, she is."

"You be nice," Kris warned, "or I'll sic Arlo on you."

Their tallest roommate sputtered on his tea and looked down at little Kris with bewildered eyes. "Wot?"

"Right," Murdoc sneered. As he went to put his mug in the sink he came a bit too close for Arlo's liking, and the taller man took a step back. _Funny,_ Gemma thought, _that such a big guy's afraid of someone so much smaller._ But then again, anyone with a reasonable head of their shoulders would be- her new boyfriend often had ruined knuckles, a predatory demeanour, and, judging by how marked and bruised up he was, one hell of a pain tolerance.

"Gonna shower, Gems" the dark-haired man told her, and went to saunter upstairs; Arlo stared incredulously at his back as he went.

" _You_ did that to him?" Arlo whisper-shouted once Murdoc was out of earshot. "Jesus Christ, Gemma!"

The purple-haired girl looked at her roommates sheepishly and fussed with her hair.

"How did you manage… I mean, was it easy?" Kris murmured.

Gemma blinked. "Was what easy?"

"He just doesn't seem the kind for an actual… _monogamous_ relationship."

"Oh, I see." _No, he doesn't- but here we are, I guess._ "No, it went fine."

"Creepy bloke," Arlo muttered, listening to Murdoc's padding footsteps upstairs. "You… wiv _him?"_

Kris elbowed him in the ribs.

"Right, well… head on a swivel, yeah?"

Kris grumbled. "Can you make it any more obvious that you don't think highly of him, Arlo?"

"Sorry. I mean, by all means, do whatever you want, Gemma. But…"

"Yeah, I know." She could understand why Arlo wasn't his biggest fan. Murdoc was a bit unconventional to begin with. "Thank you, though."

"Right. Well, I have to get ready for work, so I'll catch you all later," Kris told the two of them, casting a warning glance at Arlo- _keep your mouth shut_ , Gemma could imagine her saying. The little brunette waved and disappeared upstairs.

Arlo shook his head, still muttering to himself. "A good gal like her… wiv… _him?_ "

Gemma patted him on a burly shoulder, and chuckling, went to get dressed.

* * *

She'd not accompanied him to his band practice- "can't let you tag along, love, because Paula's a fucking twat," he'd growled in that husky tone- but he'd invited her to the bar later. For "band bonding." _Not sure how that will pan out._

It wasn't a far way across town- one train and a bus and she was there. It was a fairly standard English pub, quite busy. She scanned the room- every table was full- but it wasn't hard to spot the band's table, as 2D's blue hair shone almost fluorescently under the dim lighting. She sauntered over, and quietly took the empty chair beside her boyfriend, who seemed to be in a heated debate with Paula about nothing in particular and off in his own angry little world. Gemma waited for a few moments, and shared an amused glance with Russel, who eventually interjected in his baritone Brooklyn accent: "Muds, your girl's here."

"Wot?" Murdoc glanced round, his two-toned gaze settling on the girl beside him; the beer had gone to his head a bit- he was slurring his words. "Oh, hello, Gems!"

She placed a hand on his gaunt cheek and pulled him in for a quick peck. "How was practice?"

"Oh, fine. _This_ one," he sneered in the direction of Paula, "wasn't a complete and total git this time round."

"Oi," piped up 2D from across the table. "You can't speak 'bout my girlfriend like that!"

"Shut it, twerp," Murdoc snarled. The blue-haired man recoiled and gloomily took a sip from his pint.

"Do you guys have a gig soon?" Gemma asked no one in particular, trying to diffuse some tension.  
"Waiting for Muds to get his new place," intoned Russel. "so we can record. Soon, I hope."

"Next week, as it turns out," Murdoc drawled tipsily, dropping an arm round Gemma, "I'll be moved and all settled in."

 _Damn. That was quick._ Gemma wished she could move in with him- they were already roommates, after all…

2D stared at her spacily from across the table, frowning slightly; she'd never looked at him properly, but he was an attractive guy, maybe about her age, whereas Murdoc seemed… older. She didn't even know his age, come to think of it. Murdoc was certainly something, but 2D- 2D drew attention wherever he went, with his azure hair and his black eyes and missing front teeth- even now, people around them were stealing quick glances over their shoulders. She looked at him for a couple moments, staring without meaning to, until he finally questioned in his distinctive, almost unintelligible voice- "where are you from?"

"Canada," she called across the table, trying to be heard in the midst of a football score on the TVs. "Toronto."

"Canada," he repeated. "Do you drink lots of maple syrup, then?"

She couldn't help but giggle- he was staring at her so intently. "Oh, all the time," she joked. "I'm actually running out, I need to find some more."

"Oh," he said, nodding. Beside her, Murdoc snickered and rolled his eyes.

"I'm kidding," Gemma said.

"…Oh." Confusion twisted the blue-haired man's features. Paula glared at her- or maybe that was just her resting expression? She'd never seen anything other than an unhappy face on that woman…

Russel shot a disapproving look at Paula and turned his attention to Gemma. "Why'd you move?"

"It's a long story. Bad family dynamics. I love it here, though."

"You'll love my new place even _more,"_ Murdoc told her rather drunkenly, gravelly voice slurring. "High ceilings, dark hardwood, granite countertops…"

"What?" He hadn't told her. "You have a new place already?"

"I ain't gonna think about how it was paid for," Russel murmured to Gemma above Murdoc's rambling.

"…A king-sized canopy bed…" her boyfriend purred, his breath hot in her ear. Russel scoffed to himself from across the table.

"Maybe we should head back to mine, yeah?" The raven-haired man suggested in his velvety voice; he knotted a fist in her hair and she breathed in sharply, warmth bubbling in her stomach. Across the table, 2D stared vacantly off into the space and Paula sneered at them.

"I mean… I'd like to stay here with the band for a bit longer, if that's okay…"

"I was gonna head off pretty soon," Russel told her, throwing a cutting glance at Murdoc, who was unaware of anything and was making bedroom eyes at his girlfriend. "Just go, Gemma. Murdoc and Paula in the same room- you don't want to be around that anyway."

She glanced at the blue-haired man and his girlfriend who sat opposite. 2D was spacing out and Paula couldn't wipe that sneer off her face. She glanced at Murdoc, who hadn't loosened his grip on her hair, a dangerous smirk twisting his features. She couldn't help look downwards at his legs, spread wide as usual to accommodate being well-endowed, and fuck. That bulge. She couldn't help but stare.

"Let's get you out of here, hmm?" Murdoc purred, and in one swift movement was up out of his seat and had taken her and placed her on the ground. She barely had time to throw a goodbye glance at Russel as she was ushered out of the building and into Murdoc's car.

"Are you safe to be driving?" she asked. He revved the engine and flew into the next lane before she'd even put her seatbelt on.

"Of course. i'd just like to get home so I can fuck you." He grabbed her thigh and sunk his nails into her flesh, snickering as she inhaled sharply. "Would you like that, love?"

"Yes," she murmured, entranced as he dug deeper into the pale flesh of her thigh. She could feel herself bruising. A sneer adorned his lips as she placed a hand on his crotch, and his knuckle turned white on the wheel. He cursed at the traffic; she bit her lip as the bulge underneath her palm grew harder.

As soon as he'd parked and rushed her into the elevator, he'd cornered her up against the wall, towering over her, his hands immediately knotted in her hair and hips grinding against hers; she could feel him through the strained fabric of his jeans. _Hopefully there's not a camera in here…_

But before she knew what had happened he'd scooped her up and was nearly running down the hallway in haste- and then they were in his apartment, but she hadn't time to pay attention to that because he'd flung her onto a couch and was immediately on top of her, feverishly pulling at her shirt, his belt already undone. He chuckled darkly and dragged his fingers down her cheek, where they came to rest on her neck, pressing into her airways. Gently at first, and then harder- a growl ripped through his throat as she gasped for breath while his other hand undid and discarded her bra to play with her breasts; she couldn't move, had no power, and his sneer widened further, flashing his sharp, crooked teeth as she sat there, feeling the color in her cheeks drain- she was getting a little dizzy…

Murdoc released his chokehold on her and she heaved, the spinning world around her beginning to slow. She breathed in his comforting scent, a little heavier on the alcohol this time, as he began to trail his lips down her collarbone-

"Take me to your bed," she said breathlessly. This couch wasn't nearly big enough.

His eyes were on the line between human and animal. He grabbed her arm and was dragged her along upstairs to the loft. The only item of furniture was a king-sized canopy bed, as he'd said, with red silk sheets. He kicked off his jeans and threw off his sweater. She slid down her skirt and was about to kick off her heels when he'd shoved her backwards onto the bed and leaned over to purr in her ear, "Keep 'em on."

She shivered as he pinned her arms against the mattress and ran his tongue down her neck. Not that he was never enthusiastic, because he always was- but he had his own place now, _his_ place, and he was making it clear that they had space to do whatever the fuck they wanted. She dug her nails into his shoulder blade and grabbed a fistful of his hair, and he growled, coming back up to kiss her roughly. She paused to pull his head up by his scruff so that she could see him; he gazed down at her, cigarette-stained teeth peeking out from underneath a devilish smirk, his thick black eyebrows cocked, his two-toned eyes regarding her lustily. He was so close, the tip of his wonky nose was touching hers, and she couldn't help but take him in. A couple pimples on his forehead, a couple stray hairs above his lip he'd missed while shaving, the dark circles under his eyes- reminders that he was, indeed, human, and not some otherworldly creature she often felt him to be. She didn't often appreciate that he was a person. Like her.

"Alright, love?" he murmured. _Shit. Have I been staring too long?_

"Yes! Yeah, I'm good." She was breathless, and she could feel the butterflies that rose in her stomach as soon as she regained eye contact with him, as soon as his guitar-callused fingers brushed hers, pressing her hands into the sheets. He grinned satisfiedly and leaned down again to kiss her, softly at first, but soon he fell into his usual demeanour and one hand was again knotted in her hair, the other playing with her exposed breast. She fingered the massive bulge straining under his boxer briefs and smirked into his kisses as he reacted, expertly pushing all of her buttons- he trailed his nails gently down her skin, pausing to grip her hip and squeeze her ass, hard, chuckling as she yelped into his mouth- and pressed his fingers down against her crotch, the only layer separating them the thin mesh of her thong.

"What would you like me to do, Gemma?" he murmured, his husky voice dripping with honey. "Hm, love?"

She scoffed playfully at him, though breathless. "You're trying to dirty-talk me?"

He masked a look of vague surprise and exaggerated his accent, knowing it would get to her. He repeated himself. "What would you like me to do, Gems?"

When she didn't reply he tapped her gently, tugging at the hem of her panties with a fingernail. He gazed down at her expectantly, cocky, biting his lip with a sharp, tobacco-stained tooth- but she wouldn't give in, not right away. She watched his gaunt features shift as she deftly pulled down his boxer briefs with one hand and wrapped her fingers around him. A growl escaped his throat and his lip threatened to curl, his mouth in a crooked sneer.

"What do you want _me_ to do?" She said in her best seductive tone- she wasn't nearly as good at it as him, but she tried- and felt him stiffen further in her grip.

He simpered and leaned down to kiss her, nipping her lip before he murmured, "you _are_ something else, aren't you?"

She pumped her fist a few times, hungrily inhaling in the hot, cigarette-and-booze air he struggled to keep in as she moved her hand along his length. Once more, she cooed, "What would you like me to do, Murdoc?"

No later than a second after she had uttered those words had he grabbed her by the hair and twisted her onto her hands and knees, a gravelly rumble rising in his throat as she whimpered in pain. He positioned himself behind her and yanked her head back to whisper in her ear, "I want you to sit here and let me fuck you, love. Can you do that?"

"Yes," she murmured, wincing as he dug his nails into her back.

He moved his hands to her hips and tightened his grip as he slid into her slowly, letting out a snarl like she'd never heard. She stifled a cry- the sheer size of him was too big. He had always been too big for her, but he was just. So. Fucking. Good.

"Now, I'm going to ask one more time," he said, his voice near hoarse. He was playing it cool, but she could tell it was taking energy to physically hold himself back- he was practically vibrating. "What would you like me to do to you, Gemma?"

"Fuck m-"

He pounded into her and she finished her sentence with a yelp, grabbing onto the foot of the bed-frame for support. One of his hands reached around to grab her breast and the other reached over to touch her clit; he made her mewl as his fingers massaged her expertly, and in turn he cussed under his breath and thrusted into her harder, faster. She gasped at the sharp pain where he'd sunk his teeth into the fleshy part of her shoulder; the mixture of pain and pleasure was soon enough to make her go over the edge; she moaned as he pumped faster, his hands now on her hips, and felt a stream of warmth inside her as he came too, digging his fingers into her bone.

Murdoc collapsed backwards on the bed, wrapping his arms round Gemma's waist and pulling her with him. She planted a kiss on his bony face and the two of them lay there for a moment, panting.

"I'll be ready for round 2 in a moment," he breathed, his voice deep and rough; he always sounded like that after sex, and it always left her wanting more.

"At least I've given your back some time to heal," she teased. "No scratches."

"Was fantastic regardless."

She gazed at the raven-haired man beside her, who had rummaged through his discarded jean's pockets and was now lighting a cigarette. He caught her staring and shot her a charming, quizzical look.

"Sorry. You're just…" she murmured, resisting the urge to run a hand through his mop of shiny black hair. He smirked, smoke escaping through his lips, as she continued, "Also, I have never had sex this good with anyone else."

"Is that so? How many people have you been with, then?"

Gemma was a bit taken aback by this question, but he seemed earnest and genuinely intrigued. "Uh. Under 7…"

He laughed, sputtering on his cigarette smoke. "Wot? A fox like you? Why's that?"

"I'm sort of picky. I guess. I dunno, 7 isn't _that_ few…" His surprise made her question how many people _he_ had slept with. She knew she didn't have to ask, but she knew it would eat away at her. "Why? What about you?"

"Christ." He looked upward, thinking. "Dunno, really. Maybe 50?"

 _Shit.._ She regretted asking. But come to think of it, he probably had more opportunity to sleep around with people- "You know, I've just realized that I don't know how old you are."

"27. And you?"

 _Wow._ There was a big age gap there that she hadn't been expecting. She hesitated. "21."

Murdoc was visibly surprised. "Christ. For some reason I thought you were… older."

"Why's that? Is that ok?"

He shrugged, studying her. "Of course. You just seem to know what you're doing."

"That couldn't be farther from the truth. But thanks. I would like to know where I stand, though…"

"Stand where, love?"

She felt stupid asking. "On your sex list."

"Oh." He snickered and tweaked her nipple. "If you weren't the best, I wouldn't be _with_ you."

The anxiousness in her stomach faded and she snuggled into his shoulder, closing her eyes. 50 _was_ quite a substantial number, but if she was the best, she supposed it didn't matter. _After all, he said I was at the top._ She felt silly, but pride bubbled up inside her.

A pair of warm lips interrupted her thoughts, trailing from her collar bone down to her breasts.

"I reckon you're ready to go again, love," her boyfriend's voice crooned. She opened her eyes to see him pulling that crooked grin. Damn, he was gorgeous.

"Alright." She exhaled as he trailed down her torso, glancing up at her with those mismatched eyes. "I hope these rooms are sound proof…"

"Oh, they are," he purred between kisses. "They are."


	11. Chapter 11

{Sorry for the long wait, but thank you for the most recent review! I'm happy to know that people are still interested in this story xx I apologize if any of the font is different sizes, my mac has been messing up and I have to go over every paragraph to make sure there are breaks. Let me know what you think x}

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4 A.M, her phone read. She'd been woken up by an unfamiliar voice downstairs. Usually Murdoc's voice stood out above others, but this- she hadn't heard this voice before. It was harsh and raucous. The two men downstairs- her boyfriend, and this stranger- could be heard laugh- ing sarcastically, Murdoc's signature "haw-haw" (she had butterflies even now, listening to it) mostly obscured by the other man's obnoxious guffawing. She forced herself to get up and went to the closet where he had started to store his clothing, pulled on a sweater, and padded down- stairs. Her boyfriend's lean, scratched-up figure, in only a pair of jeans- and, beside him, a huge bulky one- stood with their backs away from her, still chuckling. She went to wrap her arms around Murdoc's waist and he jolted in surprise, turning in her grip to look down at her.

"Wot you doing up?" He asked, a grin still on his lips.

She was aware of a second, unfamiliar pair of eyes looking at her now, and spoke shyly. "You woke me up."

"Sorry, love. I don't think you've met my mate Sam."

She stepped out from behind her boyfriend and offered a hand and a smile that she did her best to make confident- but now she regretted not putting on actual clothes. He took her hand in his huge, rough one, and shook firmly, taking her in- she wasn't sure she liked the look on his face. He was one of the largest people she'd ever seen, maybe 6"5 and burly, looking as though he was perhaps on steroids- actually, no, she was sure of it. His whole body seemed to be solid muscle (or so she presumed, underneath the t-shirt and jacket he wore) but his upper body was gargantuan. Disproportionate. She did her best not to rip away her hand when he loosened his grip, and stood there, hoping Murdoc would put an arm around her. He did.

Sam kept his eyes on her for an uncomfortable few moments and finally shifted his gaze to Murdoc, a sneer on his face. "'Ow'd you manage this one, Muds?"

Indignancy burned her cheeks. I'm not an object, you dick.

Murdoc chuckled and pinched her arse. "It was all too easy, wasn't it, love?"

Hey, she wanted to protest, I'm not a goddamn possession. But he was right, and he was too charming. It was too easy.

Sam glanced at Gemma for a moment, calculatingly, and then asked her boyfriend, "so 'ave you seen Kelly recently?"

Kelly, Gemma thought. Who's that? She looked upwards; Murdoc was trying to keep his expression cool, but was visibly annoyed nonetheless. It must have been that "K" person a while back in his phone. "No," he replied. "Not seeing her anymore."

Sam's heavy brow furrowed together. "Not at all?"

"No."

"Shiiiiit. Must be real good, this one, eh?"

Gemma's cheeks burned as Sam's beady eyes fixed on her, lingering too long on her

breasts. She chided herself for picking the worst time to go bra-less- and also pants-less; although Murdoc's sweater nearly reached her knees, she pulled the hem down self-consciously. Murdoc's grip tightened around her- his friend was pushing the line.

"Yes," the raven-haired man replied brusquely, his voice deeper than usual. "She is rather something."

There was an awkward silence. Gemma looked up at Murdoc. They exchanged a look. "Go back up to bed, Gems," he told her. "Sam and I are almost done here."  
Before she had turned to leave, he caught her round the waist and forced her in to kiss

her roughly, his tongue tracing the inside of her mouth, a hand knotted in her hair. She pulled back, vaguely uncomfortable- she knew it was a display of dominance, of ownership over her- and padded meekly upstairs. She didn't hear a peep for the rest of the night.

Hours later she'd found him shirtless downstairs, again- she wasn't sure he'd ever re- turned to bed- this time standing in front of the ceiling-length windows, spliff between his lips . Still in his sweater, she went to stand beside him, and took his hand. He grinned, though stiffly; something was bothering him, she could tell.

"How are you doing?" She asked, cautious. No reply.

Oh no. Was this about last night?

She pushed. "What's wrong?"

Murdoc scoffed and looked down at her, eyes narrowed. "Absolute prick." "Sam?"

"The way he was looking at you." Her boyfriend spat, taking a sharp inhale on his joint. "Who the fuck does he think he is?"

"Who... is he, anyway? Like, how do you know him?"

"He's something of a body guard for my high-risk deals."

Which is probably most of them, considering the amount of cocaine you have. She stood quietly beside him for a few moments, unsure how to console him.

"I mean... you have nothing to worry about," she told him, squeezing his bony hand.

"He's not-"  
"Oh, no, I'm not worried. Just the fact that he had the nerve to eye you like a fucking cat

with a mouse. Does he know who I am? Christ."  
"Yeah, he was kind of creepy." Gemma tried to keep her tone calm- she could feel Murdoc tensing up beside her, and his lips were starting to curl in disgust.

"The way he was looking at you," he repeated, his voice lowering in pitch. He spoke in more of a snarl now. "He was thinking of all the things he could do with that pretty mouth of yours. I can bloody well read that bastard like a book and he wants his cock between your-"

"Alright, I get it. You're not painting a very nice mental image." She stepped in front of him and wrapped her arms around him, trying to distract him; he was fuming. She'd never seen him so visibly angry. "He's a gross guy. But Murdoc. Please don't worry about it. Not like he's around much anyway."

"I'll just have to keep him away from you. If he pushes his luck he better hope that I don't-"

This is just getting ridiculous. In an attempt to distract him from his ranting, she lifted up her sweater and flashed him, standing on her tiptoes to get her chest as close to his face as possible. He stopped mid-sentence and a coy grin spread on his lips.

"There we go," she sighed, covering herself up. "I thought you'd never shut up."

Murdoc chuckled nastily and pulled her in by the neck of her jumper abruptly. "You gonna make me, then?"

Gemma took the spliff from his fingers and took a puff. "Mmm... not right now."

"Wot?" He released her, looking a bit surprised- and in a split second his tone shifted to that velvety purr he knew she found so spellbinding, only made better by how mellow the weed had made him. "But Gemma, wouldn't you like me to shove my cock between those two perfect tits of yours?"

"I think you'd like that more than I would," she smiled, discarding the spliff in an ashtray. "And besides," she said, checking the fridge for food, "I need a break until at least tonight. You're too big for me. If you're good, then maybe later."

"'If you're good,' " he spat, teasing. "What do you mean? I'm always good. And what do you mean, I'm too big for you?"

"It actually hurts to have sex with you."  
Suddenly he was behind her, purring into her ear. "Isn't that why you like it, though?" "I like it for other reasons."

"Like what?"

Gemma turned around to face him and tried not to breathe in his musky scent. "I'm not doing this right now. I'm sore as fuck." She gestured to the couch. "Can we just snuggle?'

He was visibly a bit annoyed he hadn't gotten his way, and reached into his back pocket for a pack of cigarettes.

"How do you always have the energy?" Gemma asked him, wrapping her arms around his lean frame. "Don't you ever get sore?"

He shrugged, smirking a bit- he always loved an opportunity to brag. "Yeah, I do. Quite like the pain, though- have you not figured that out?

"Well yeah, I know that, but how are you always ready to go? Like... is there a medical term for that? I've never met anyone like that."

"Of course you haven't. I'm Murdoc fucking Niccals," he sneered, exhaling smoke into her face. She hungrily breathed in, drawn to him and his arrogance. "But truthfully," he contin- ued, "I've always been like this. The moment I hit puberty, really."

"You were always quite the ladies' man, then?"

"Well. Not always. Was a greasy little bastard up until college, really. And then the girls just couldn't stay away from me."

"Still can't stay away from you?"

"I have a few skanks that are a bit confused as to who the hell you are. I've never been known for monogamy. What about you, though, love? Tell me."

"Wel... I used to do a lot of drugs in highschool- I guess you guys call it college over here? I slept around a bit and then got labelled a slut and didn't really do too much after that."

"I don't understand the stigma of being labelled a slut. What's wrong with doing whatever the hell you want?" He put a sinewy arm around her and squeezed her breast cheekily. "I can imagine the boys were all over you, were they not?"

"Kind of. I didn't dress back then like I do now. Canadian boys aren't nearly as charming as Brits. You guys dress better. You carry yourselves better. And the accents. Especially yours. I can't understand some of them, but yours is perfect."

"Is it?" His voice dropped an octave and he exaggerated his Cockney. "I knew that al- ready, of course, but-"

"Don't try this right now, you nobhead," She tried out the word, sounding a bit strange on her Canadian tongue, and he snickered at her. "I have to leave for work soon."

"Right. Later tonight then. If I've time, I'll come visit. If I remember correctly, you work in a place I've not yet been banned."

"Jesus, you are a wildcard, aren't you? Alright. Don't make a scene."

He looked mildly offended. "Make a scene? Why would-"

"Because I am hit on at work. All of the time."

"And I do hope you're the best-tipped waitress in that bar." He pushed up her tits under-neath the sweater she wore and squeezed them, cheeky satisfaction curling his lips.

"Just don't get your name on the bad list, yeah? I have to go change. Can you take me?" "Mmm... I could swing that. Soon, though."

"Thanks, babe."

Oop. It had slipped out of her mouth. He swivelled his head to look at her, eyebrow cocked. Shit. Have I overstepped my boundary? No, it didn't look like it- he was very clearly amused. He gestured with his hands, flicking her away. "Right. Once you've gone about your business come get me."


	12. Chapter 12

{Thank you for making it this far with me! Another sex scene is coming up so be prepared. We're leading up to a big event in the next chapter, so keep reading x}

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It was half seven, and she had a half-hour left; Murdoc hadn't showed up and hadn't been answering the few texts she'd sent him over the course of the day after he had dropped her off, so she had planned her after-work evening: bubble bath, maybe a spliff, and an early night. She loved being around Murdoc, but over the past few weeks she'd become incredibly sleep-deprived. She'd only seen him snoozing on a few occasions; she suspected he did coke to keep himself awake.

She'd made good tips today- although it wasn't a custom like it was in Canada- and did her best to puff out her chest while she waited for her chavvy patrons to swipe their visas. As usual, she'd done a good job. A 20% tip on a 60 quid bill was always welcome.

Just as she had finished with them and was about to turn away, she felt a pair of fingers pinch her arse underneath her skirt. She did her best to compose herself and turn round without glaring daggers- the men in this particular pub had always been particularly brash with her- when a gravelly voice purred in her ear, "'Ello, Gems."

She caught a whiff of his signature cigarette smoke and cheap cologne, and his fringe brushed against her temple briefly. She could have sworn he winked at the men she had just finished serving, as she heard him chuckle quietly as they looked on, a bit perturbed.

He barely gave her room to turn round, and she asked, "Why've you not been answering my texts?"

"Busy day. But I'm here now."

"Alright. Sit down, I'll grab you a drink."

He grinned cheekily and traipsed to sit at a lone table. She returned with whiskey, neat.

"I'm off in a few," she told him. "Sit tight."

She had one more table to finish up with before she was done for the day. This particular customer had been aggressive today. Not in a violent way, but he wouldn't leave her alone. He told her he'd like another pint. As she turned and walked back to the bar, he grabbed her arse. She stifled a gasp.

 _Okay, Gemma. Just ignore it and he'll stop. He'll get the message_. The last thing she wanted to do was cause a fuss and lose tips. She could barely afford food on a good day. She glanced at Murdoc, but it didn't seem as though he'd seen. Thank god.

She returned with his beer, not making eye contact. This angered him. He caught her by the wrist. "Oi. What's the matter, love?" His voice was harsh and grating and unpleasant. She tried to yank her hand away but his huge fingers had snared her.

"Sorry, I'm quite busy. I don't really have time to talk."

He looked round, squeezing her wrist more tightly. It was the best excuse she could think of, but the bar wasn't too full.

"Really?" His grip hurt now. "That doesn't look to be the case now, does it?"

She cast a panicked glance backwards, but Murdoc was looking up at the telly. She had to get his attention.

"Let go of me," she said loudly.

She could distinguish the moment he had heard her and had gotten up off the bar stool, putting his pint glass down so forcefully that she was surprised it hadn't cracked. His Cuban heels clicked with intention and in an instant he was beside her, bent over, tapping his fingers menac- ingly on the man's table.

"Right," he sneered in a gravelly tone, fringe obscuring his two-toned eyes under the fluorescent lights, "I suggest you unhand my bird, here, or I'll knock each and every single one of your teeth clean out of your head and see to it that you're in the hospital for a long, long fucking time. You'll be a fucking vegetable, mate."

She winced as his grip tightened and he looked defiantly up at Murdoc. Everyone in the bar was watching them, but no one stirred. How could this wiry, thin man threaten a beast like him?

The raven-haired man snickered and leaned back to crack his knuckles. "Wrong move, mate."

Before she knew what had happened, Murdoc's fist had collided with the man's nose with a monumental crunch. He let go of her wrist out of sheer surprise and got up, shoving her out of the way, and she fell backwards onto the floor, watching the brawl unfold. He towered over Murdoc, at least twice his size in bulk, but the smaller man was chuckling. Just laughing. Where he got his arrogance from Gemma had no idea.

The hulk swung, missing Murdoc's head by mere centimetres, and tried to face the dark- haired man dancing around him. He was fast. Deftly, as if he'd pre-meditated all of his move- ments, Murdoc sped round his opponent so agilely, and chairs and tables came crashing to the ground as the larger man stumbled about, throwing blind punches and trying to keep up. She couldn't see them now- they were behind a pillar. Blood spattered and rotting teeth clinked on the hardwood; whose she wasn't sure. They stumbled back into view and she stifled a shriek as Murdoc took a blow to the face, the bridge of his nose crunching underneath the the other man's knuckles, but the raven-haired man didn't react. In fact, this seemed to fuel him. With congeal- ing blood dripping down his front and a nasty sneer on his face, he just punched harder, faster; the other man was bleeding profusely from the mouth and nose, beginning to lose conscious- ness. With one last deft blow to his temple, he toppled over, head smashing into a table on the way down.

Murdoc stood over him, cracking his bleeding knuckles. He glanced at Gemma, who was still sat on the ground in shock.  
"Shall we go?" He nodded towards the doorway.

Unthinkingly, she got up and followed him out. The whole bar was still silent as they left. His car was parked nearby, and it all sort of sunk in as she got in with him. She touched his face. His nose had been broken again. "Are you... are you ok?" She asked dumbly. "Take me to mine. You need to clean up. Holy shit..."

Like the last time he'd beaten someone up, he wasn't quite there when he looked at her, he like wasn't in control.

"Oh," he purred. "I'm perfectly fine." His raw knuckles were white on the wheel as he maneu- vered out of his parking spot. His nose was still dripping blood but she didn't want to touch him any further. He looked bloodthirsty.

She let them into the flat and cursed to herself when Kris and Arlo, seated in the living room, waved at her. Their expressions turned to horror when Murdoc strode in behind her. "Jesus _Christ!_ What the fuck! What the fuck happened?"

"Nothing too out of the ordinary," Murdoc purred, wiping his nose on his soiled shirt. "Just had to put a bloke in his place."

"Go take a hot shower, okay?" Gemma whispered. Her boyfriend winked at Kris and Arlo and leapt upstairs.

Kris shook her head. "He's not good for you, Gemma. This is fucking insane. You're never home. When you are, you have hickeys all over your neck and he's with you all fucked up. He talks about this shit like it's normal. What the fuck happened?"

Gemma shot back at her defiantly. "What the fuck do you mean he's not good for me? He gets me. He understands me. I was at work and this idiot wouldn't let go of my wrist."

"So your boyfriend- if that's what he even is- beat him up? What happened to him?"

"What does it matter? What matters is that I'm ok and that he's ok."

"IS he okay? Have you seen him? Have you seen how much blood he's lost? His fucking nose has been broken."

"Kris," Gemma warned. Her fists began to bunch. "Cool it."

"Alright, mate." Her flat mate held her hands in the air. "If you want to make shitty choices, you can go right ahead."

The purple-haired girl shot her a scathing glance and ran upstairs into the bathroom. The show- er was on, and the room was misty; she could make out Murdoc's lean silhouette behind the shower door. Beneath him, the water ran red, and congealed blood oozed down the drain.

She stripped down and went in to join him, and immediately he was on her, hands groping feverishly, nipping at her neck, adrenaline still coursing through his system.

 _Fuck Kris._

She moved her hands downward to his length, and he growled; in return he slid his fingers in- side of her, and she purposefully moaned. _Fuck Kris. What the fuck did she know? Who the fuck IS she?_

He snarled in return, and she grabbed his face to look at him; his eyes had been black- ened, and were vacant but focussed; he looked like an animal. She wasn't sure if he was there or not, but she didn't care. He wanted her. And she wanted to put Kris in her place. Kris couldn't do shit.

She placed her arms round his neck and he lifted her up and pressed her against the wall and slid into her. She moaned as loudly as she could, making sure that her sounds perme- ated the walls; in response, Murdoc snarled and pumped harder. He sunk his teeth into her breast and she yelped, sneering as she imagined Kris's reaction downstairs. Her breasts bounced against his face as he slid in and out of her, faster and faster, cursing. She moaned again, encouraging him to reply. He was close, she could tell. By now, she knew all of his but- tons; she mewled and that was it. Warmth spurted inside of her and he snarled as he came. She followed soon after.

Adrenaline used up, he pur her down gently and ran a hand through his hair, smirking at her from underneath that fringe she loved so much. Rage temporarily forgotten, she leant in to hug him. He was solid, his muscles having been pumped up. He purred contentedly into her ear.

She wrapped herself up into a towel and ran to grab spare clothing he'd left in her room a while ago. They both changed and headed downstairs to leave.

Arlo avoided her glance, but Kris. She had never seen Kris so angry. For a moment it looked as if she was about to come out of her armchair and confront her.  
Gemma took a bow and followed her smirking boyfriend out the door.


	13. Chapter 13

When they arrived back at his apartment, Sam and another giant were waiting in the lobby. Murdoc only nodded at them and they followed them- or escorted them? Something didn't seem normal here-upstairs. Once in his suite, Murdoc drew the blinds. Sam and the other man stood, waiting, burly arms crossed.

"You're a bit late," Sam slurred. "They'll be here in 10 minutes."

"Why the fuck does it look like I'm late, you git?" Murdoc stalked up to him, peering into his beady little eyes with his bloodshot, blackened ones, and raised his arms exasperatedly. "Christ. Mind your fucking mouth. Don't be fucking daft."

The raven-haired man gestured and was passed a cigarette from the other man. He was tense, suddenly. _Is anyone going to tell me what's going on?_

"Gemma," Murdoc told her, fidgeting with a lighter that didn't want to spark. "Just sit somewhere. Don't make a fucking sound unless you're spoken to."

"Why? What's happening?"

Her boyfriend mumbled around his cigarette. "We're selling 8 keys tonight."

"Oh." That was... a lot. "Would you prefer me to go upstairs?"

He shook his head. "No. Stay here. Pull down your shirt. Just sit. Rocky and Will will be here shortly with my client. Need to show this bastard that I'm a force to be reckoned with."

"What, so I'm supposed to look like your plaything?"

He glanced at her almost sheepishly out of the corner of his eye. "Pretty much."

Shit. She knew she was supposed to feel offended, but there was something so hot about belonging to him. She remembered the choker with a lead ring she kept in her purse; she clipped it on and stood still as he ambled over to her. She didn't feel embarrassed, as she knew she should have, when he grabbed her hair and forced her neck back to bite at the exposed flesh. Sam and the other man looked on indifferently.

Murdoc stepped back and tilted her head to examine the purple that had he'd coaxed to blossom under her skin. "You're mine," he growled, "and I want him to know."

There was a brisk knock at the door.

"Go sit," he ordered her. She did as she was told and crossed her legs neatly on the leather armchair. Murdoc took his place in the centre of the room, Sam and the other beside him. "Come in," he instructed through his cigarette.

The door slowly slid open, and Gemma tried not to stare as a painfully thin, pale man with wispy hair walked in carrying a briefcase, surveying his surroundings calmly. He looked old, but he must have been in his 30s. Two more of Murdoc's henchmen followed behind him. "Wells," Murdoc nodded. His eyes were cold.

"Ah, Murdoc Niccals." The man increased his pace; the guards behind him trotted to keep up, and Sam and the other behind Murdoc tensed in anticipation. But Murdoc merely extended a hand, which his client accepted and shook vigorously. His voice was high and rough with an ac- cent she couldn't place. "It's been quite a while. How have things been?"

"Well. Yourself?"

His tone was much friendlier than the raven-haired man's. "Can't complain, my friend, can't complain." He glanced over at Gemma; his eyes were cloudy, and as she looked back at him, she saw that his arms were covered in skid marks. He focussed back on her boyfriend. "And I can see that you don't have much to complain about, either. Posh place. Lots of money. Lovely taste in gash."  
Gemma's skin prickled.

"Is she new?"

"Yes," Murdoc replied curtly, smoke trailing from his nostrils. "She's mine. No exceptions."

"Unfortunate," he replied. "She is quite beautiful." He walked towards her, his gait a bit uneven, and Murdoc tensed up. His bodyguards shifted uneasily, unsure what to do.

"Wells, I would appreciate it if you look and not touch."

His client laughed, a joyful, childish sound that betrayed his appearance, and continued towards Gemma. "No need to worry, Mr. Niccals. No harm will come to her. I wouldn't dream of maiming a lovely creature such as this."

Her breath caught in her throat as his fingers, spiderlike and icy, tilted her head to examine her; his eyes lingered on the bruises, new and old, Murdoc had placed on her neck. "What's your name, darling?"

She fought to keep her voice even. "Gemma."

"Gemma," he repeated. His fingertips brushed under her chin. "Lovely Gemma. Murdoc is lucky to have you. And you are lucky to have him, surely; he takes good care of you?"

"Yes."

"Mmm," he mumbled, keeping eye contact with her as he took his place again in front of Murdoc. "Are you sure, Mr. Niccals, that we cannot make some kind of arrangement?"

Gemma fixed on Murdoc. He was shaking ever so slightly, forcing himself to breath; she could see his ribs rise and fall underneath the bulk of his jumper. His voice was uncharacteristically calm. "Unfortunately not, Wells. She is mine. Not negotiable."

"Ah, well. I can't blame you, I suppose. She must be incredible."

Perhaps Wells wasn't reacting the way Murdoc anticipated; he looked uncomfortable. He wanted desperately to steer away from the subject. "Shall we continue on with business, then?"

"Of course." Wells swung the briefcase up and opened it for him to see. Inside was the most money Gemma had ever seen at once. "8 thousand quid."

Sam, on cue, procured a satchel, which he passed to Murdoc. The two men traded their pack- ages. Wells peered inside the bag and nodded.

"Right then." Murdoc's tone was dismissive. "There you are, Wells. 8 keys."

"Many thanks, Mr. Niccals." He smiled, revealing a few rotting teeth. "Pleasure was mine, as al- ways."

Murdoc nodded and gestured minutely. The other two guards escorted Wells outside; before the door closed, he cast a glance at Gemma that left her shivering, feeling violated somehow.

Murdoc waited a few moments and then relaxed, letting his cigarette, still lit, drop to the floor. "Absolute prick."

"Went quite smoothly," Sam commented from behind him.

Murdoc glanced at Gemma from across the room angrily; she wondered if she'd done some- thing wrong.

"Make an arrangement," he sneered. "Pushes his boundaries and thinks he can get away with it. Absolute piece of fucking garbage."

Gemma felt the need to move away from where he'd approached her and got up towards Mur- doc, who took her under an arm.

"Who is he?"

"One of the more powerful dealers in the city. I've know him for a while, but he's growing. Thinks he can try to take advantage of me because he's bigger."

"He seemed... off."

"Oh, he is off. He's always off. Constantly high on something. Heroin, this time, I think. Had a distinct smell about him." Murdoc looked her over, making sure he'd not hurt her. "It has been an eventful day, hasn't it? Especially for you. You have them falling at your feet, don't you?"

"But I am yours. You don't need to worry about that."

"I don't worry. I just-"

"Don't want other guys touching me like I'm theirs?"

"...hmm." He snorted. He was hesitant to admit that he was jealous. Of course, he hadn't said it outright. But she knew.

"You can go," he told his guards. "I'll be in touch."

Without a word from either of them, they shuffled out the door. Murdoc audibly sighed. She sup- posed this had been a big deal for him; he was rising up the ranks.

"So were you, like... a pimp or something?"

He simpered. "Hah. I thought you might ask that. Sort of. Occasionally."

"Shit." She looked up at him, and he had a smirk on his face. "But you want to keep me to your- self?"

"Why the fuck wouldn't I?"

Fuck it. She'd fish for compliments. "I dunno, you tell me."

"Oh, please," He scoffed. "You know you're 'incredible,' to quote that druggie son of a bitch. I know you do."

She knew he wasn't a sap, but she'd accept this. She grinned up at him and pressed herself into his chest. She could feel him shaking his head.

"You're a strange one, Gemma."

"Me? You're saying I'm strange? _You_ are strange."

"What makes me strange?"

"You're one in a million."

"Hah," he sneered, "tell me something I don't know."

She boxed his chest playfully. "And where did you get your _arrogance_ from? Jesus."

" _Someone's_ gotta look out for me. If it's not gonna be my dad or my brother, then who else?"

"Me."

"Well." He smiled down at her fondly- not a sneer, not a smirk, but an actual smile- with a hint of warmth in his blackened eyes. "You're here now, aren't you?"

"Yeah. Even if no one else does, I think you're fucking great. Even though you're a fucking drug lord."

He chuckled and tousled her hair. "You're not so bad yourself."

She locked eyes with him, making sure he was paying attention. She didn't often say things like this, but... "I really like you, you know. I know I'm basically risking my life being around you, but... you really are great."

Whether he meant to or not, he deftly avoided her proclamation of fondness, but her heart fluttered when he returned the sentiment in his own way: "You're not risking your life. I'll always make sure you're safe."

She pushed a little further. "Why?"

He rolled his eyes. "Christ, Gemma. Don't be daft."

That was as much as she was going to get right now, but that was fine. She leaned in and pressed her head against his chest, listening to his heartbeat. She wished he'd say more, but she would take what she could get.

Murdoc placed a bony finger underneath her chin and tilted her head up. "You know what, though, Gems?"

Butterflies tumbled about in her stomach. "What?"

"You have some of the nicest tits I've ever seen."

She stared at the crooked sneer on his face for a few moments in disbelief, and he chuckled when she swatted his shoulder.

Typical Murdoc.


End file.
